The Fall & Rise of Creed Diskence
by KosagiNoLegion
Summary: A Black Cat AU Fic Manga only: When the only one who can save you is the one who hates you most, your only hope is pity. Ch. 6972: April 13 fast approaches. What do you give the Cat who has everything?
1. Dreams and Nightmares

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

Black Cat was a manga series that ran in Shonen Jump over the last few years. Offbeat and off the wall, it's the kind of story that might happen if Quentin Tarantino were forced to work with Jackie Chan. Though utilizing numerous manga and anime cliches, it always managed to take those cliches and twist them into entirely different paths.

Among the many cliches Yabuki-san used was the theme of estranged partners battling each other. Except, Yabuki-san turned the story on its ear by having the villanous Creed Diskence be desperate to have the hero, Train Heartnet join him. As the story progressed, the shonen-ai potential of that sub-plot became more and more intriguing, and while I doubt Yabuki-san ever intended it that way, somehow it took a wrong turn at Alberquerque in my brain.

Thus this fic. It _is_ Shonen-Ai and most definitely an Alternate Universe, as I have given Creed a background entirely different than the one Yabuki-san ended up giving him. It is also a redemption fic, because Creed's madness was the sort that could never be healed on his own power. The story begins at a point where Train, instead of permitting one of Creed's lieutenants to escape, follows her through her teleport warp and straight into the Hoshi's stronghold. From here on, things take an entirely different turn from how Yabuki-san ended his series.

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

So, if you're still with me and still interested....

* * *

CHAPTER 1: DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

_October 11, 2002 _

_The target fell, eyes bulged out. His blood stained the ground, creating an intricate pattern on the linoleum. Creed took several deep breaths, relaxing his guard at last. Then he turned, angrily, on the man he'd nearly cut down instead. "JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" _

_Train shrugged, that infuriating, insouciant, gesture and expression nearly sending Creed incandescent with frightened fury. "I COULD HAVE" _

_"Don't get your undies in a twist, Creed. It worked. I distracted him long enough for you to do your slice and dice routine. What more do you want?" _

_Creed jerked to a halt and stared at the man, unable to express his fears, the moment of terror when he'd thought that his sword, aimed for their target, had sliced through the back of Train's neck. "TRAIN!" _

_With another shrug, Train responded in the way that he'd come to use on Creed whenever his junior partner's emotions got the better of him. He tossed an arm over Creed's neck, dragging his head downwards and rubbed his other fist in Creed's hair. _

_The scent of him filled Creed's nostrils, the pressure on his neck was everything. Creed relaxed into the gesture, sure sign of Train's regard, and listened to the beating of his companion's heart._

---

Sitting up rapidly sent blood rushing to Creed's head. It was just a dream. The realization hit him hard, as it always did. The knowledge that his Black Cat was no longer there, that – somehow – he had managed to estrange Train from himself returned. It was agony, greater agony than the loss of his left arm. Greater agony than losing Train in the first place, of losing him to that witch.

He still couldn't understand how he'd erred. It was obvious that that horrible woman had been misleading Train, tempting him with her softness, her kindness. Teaching him to think like she did – until nothing was left of the old, strong and powerful Train. Yet time and time again his Black Cat held her death up between them as if it were a wall, as if – by killing her – Creed had committed a horrible crime, an unforgivable sin.

Forcing the thoughts back, Creed stared down at his arm. The pain of its healing had finally settled back down to the dull ache that would not go away. Two weeks ago the stump left behind by Janos Hazard's wires had consisted of half his upper arm. Now, at last, the nano-machines that the Doctor had long ago injected into his system were rebuilding the missing limb.

It was, according to the Doctor, unexpected. The nano-machines, prototypes, and for all practical purposes, essentially the same as those Creed had accidentally shot into his beloved Train, were programmed to repair damage only within limits. The ones in Creed's body were exceeding those limits, much to the Doctor's amazement. He lay back in bed, feeling the newly created joint, moving the elbow tentatively. If only healing the heart could be this simple. Drug him out of his mind again and wait for the loss and emptiness to go away.

-CRASH-

The sound of fighting somewhere downstairs startled Creed into opening his eyes again. Staring blankly at the canopy, he listened. Had Chronos found them? _No. Too soon. The clues I planted should not be found yet._ They were coming, he knew that much, but the timing had to be just right and this was too early.

_Besides, Chronos would be making a lot more noise._ Creed frowned, then blinked as memory of a sound that he knew only too well, a sound that played in his heart every time he dreamed. The sound of a gun being fired, the sound of Hades.

"TRAIN!"

---

---

Train leapt out of the way of the blast of air that the youngest Hoshi member flung at him, dodged a bullet fired from an entirely different angle and direction than the one it had originally come from, courtesy of Ekidona's teleportation powers. Then he was ducking the big man's blows.

Gravity shifted, sending him flying, even as ice lashed out at him. _This is a fine mess._ He could hear Sven cussing him out for his impetuosity, even though his partner was somewhere miles away. _When he catches up with me I'm going to be lucky if I can eat anything solid for a week._ He grimaced, dodging another attack, this one from a Hoshi who looked rather like something out of a bad old vampire movie.

Scanning the moonlit room, he spotted several exits. It was high time for smart kitties to make an exit. _Of course, smart kitties wouldn't have jumped into the mouse hole just because it was there._ Even in this moment Train wasn't sure what had driven his decision to chase after Ekidona, his flying leap at just the right moment carrying him into the woman's warp and thus straight into the Hoshi's hideout.

_Wonder where Creed is. Way he's been acting, I would have thought he'd be first in line to greet me._ Train shrugged off the question. He was getting really mad at Creed Diskence, an anger that had its roots in Creed's murder of Train's friend, Saya and in Creed's continued refusal to let go of the past. Sooner or later Train was going to have to kill the man, of that much he was certain. In the meantime, though, he needed to get out of the trap he'd jumped into and start working out ways to deal with the Hoshi on _his_ own terms.

Making a leap for the balcony surrounding the room, Train swung himself up and over, only to find himself landing against another body. The two rolled in the darkness, limbs tangling momentarily and Train found himself kneeling on long, fragile limbs, hands gripping onto silk covered arms. This Hoshi's abilities must have involved something other than physical strength because the body he was sprawled atop was thin and frail, its struggles to break free too weak to be concerned with. As he held the other man down, he noted that one arm – the left one – was a stump, and wondered why the Hoshi would be bothering with an amputee, particularly one as apparently weak as this one.

Hearing the shouts of his enemies below, Train pressed down, flattening himself atop his captive in the hopes of keeping from being noticed. Oddly, the figure beneath him gasped softly and went completely limp. Then Creed Diskence's voice, its soft, sweet alto oddly frightened, whispered, "Train?"

---

Creed cursed himself, cursed his weakness, cursed the way his voice cracked with emotion. Barely recovered from the regeneration of his elbow, body still too exhausted to provide the strength he needed, the strength he longed to have, in order to be a proper match to his Train. Lying beneath the man he needed most in order to be whole, all he could do was lay, nearly mute and hopeless and waiting for whatever punishment his beloved chose to inflict on him.

In the dim light streaming through the windows of the entry hall, Creed could see only the shape of Train's head, the spiky hair and the lean shoulders. It was too dark to see more, but he didn't need to. The scent of him, the feel of his body – Creed knew them both and was lost.

A hand slid forward, gripping Creed by the throat. Then he felt cold steel press against his forehead. "Train." he managed to gasp. He was going to die. Train was going to kill him and he'd never be with Train again and he'd be lost and lonely, a wandering ghost unable to break free and unable to ever be happy. "Train." Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. There was so much he wanted to say and it was impossible for him to say it. Even if Train let him speak, his own pride would not.

Readying himself for death, Creed was startled when Train stiffened and suddenly held still.

---

The faint sting at the back of his neck reminded Train that he had other problems. The biggest, at this moment, seemed to be the fact that he couldn't move. _Shiki. Damnit! That little sheet used a bug on me._ He remembered Shiki's trick with Rinslet so long ago and realized it had just been used on him. The small Taoist had summoned an insect able to control people's actions. Under other circumstances, Train might have been able to evade the attack. With effort he might even overcome whatever it was the bug was doing to him.

Flashlights flared in the room, making up for the lights Train had shot out during his fight. Big hands reached down and pulled him off of Creed and someone wrapped chains around him. Meanwhile, Ekidona and the Doctor knelt beside Creed, helping the man up.

Train blinked, startled at Creed's expression. For a brief moment he looked more like a little boy than a man. Then the impression of a frightened child was gone, replaced, once more by the mad, cruel leader of the Hoshi No Shito. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have" he paused, seemed to rethink his words. "I'd have had a better reception. Marou, there's no need to be so rough with him." He turned, headed through a pair of large doors. "Come along. Let's talk."

Dragged by the big Hoshi, Train soon found himself thrust onto the floor in front of a large, sheet covered chair. _Or should I say, throne?_ Creed relaxed back into the chair and gazed down at Train, eyes asking a question that Train was at a loss to even understand, much less answer. Silence reigned and Train stared at Creed for long moments, taking in the long black silk robe with dark red roses embroidered along the edges and a huge floofy feathery collar. A black velvet choker encircled his neck, along with a small bell on a silver chain. He would have looked almost impressively sinister if it weren't for the fragility of his face and body, as if he'd been sick. _Which he had to have been. Wonder how he lost the arm. _

At last Train spoke, "Geeze Creed. What's that around your neck? A dust mop?" He cocked his head at the man, shoving back all his anger and pain and fury. He needed a crack in his enemies' defenses. Just a little one, but until he found it, he had to play along. Behind Creed, Ekidona's cheeks flushed slightly. On the other side, Shiki looked ready to scream in frustration. _At least I _think_ he is. Hard to tell under all that fabric._

Oddly, Creed simply blinked, then attempted a smile. "I refuse to take sartorial advice from someone who wears donuts on his bolero. Honestly, Train. I know you have a big appetite, but don't you think that's a bit silly looking?" His tone quavered slightly as he spoke and it occurred to Train that Creed was trying, desperately, not to show some weakness.

The expressions on the other Hoshi's faces were priceless, though. Whatever they expected out of this conversation, a discussion of the merits of their various costumes wasn't it. Apparently Creed seemed to realize that and turned the subject. "I take it, then, that you've come to kill me for what I did to your lover." The faint distaste in his tone was as insufferable as his attempt at a superior expression.

Train shrugged. "You have a huge price on your head, Creed. I'm a Sweeper. I'm here to do a Sweeper's job." He still wanted Creed dead, of course, but he refused to play along with Creed's peculiar mindset. Whatever it was Creed had decided was the truth, and it was pretty obvious he'd simply traded one fantasy explanation for another, Train had no intention of encouraging it. He gazed levelly at Creed, trying to see the man as just another target.

---

Creed whimpered inside, hating the expression on Train's face, anger and anguish combining to create a rage that would destroy everything in its path, if he'd had the strength. Let it go and he'd kill Train, unable to separate his Cat from that witch's influence. Hold it in and he'd implode. _Train. Please. Can't you see what you're doing to me?_

Shaken, he found himself trembling, staring down at Train. Had he been fully healthy he might have launched himself at the man, might have done something he'd regret for the rest of what would be a very short life. As it was, the world was starting to spin around him.

A hand touched Creed's right wrist. "You need to go back to bed," Doctor said in his ear. "You're not strong enough for this right now."

Creed blinked at the older man, knowing the concern in the Doctor's eyes was simply the concern of a scientist for his most successful experiment. Still, he recognized the truth of what the man was saying and nodded. "Train I know you're just trying to confuse me I know you're angry at me. I want to talk about it try to make you understand. But not now. I can't" He was fading, the room darkening. "Marou lock him up somewhere safe. Don't let him leave. But take good care of him."

"I will put him in the basement."

"NO!" Creed found the strength to straighten. "NOT the basement. NEVER the basement. He doesn't belong there." He didn't know why, but the thought sent waves of panic through him.

Ekidona offered, "There's a room in the attic that can be locked."

With a nod, Creed rose to his feet and stumbled away, the Doctor's hand beneath his good arm. Tomorrow, when he felt better, he'd try again. Try and make Train understand. Try and find a way to win him back, back from that witch's power. Try....

To Be Continued


	2. Broken Dreams, Shattered Souls

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

* * *

BROKEN DREAMS, SHATTERED SOULS

_October 12, 2002 _

"I just can't understand" Creed shook his head, dark eyes staring at Train through the bars – hastily installed by one of the Hoshi that morning. "How can that witch have such power over you? She's dead. I know she's dead" He stopped, face going white at the expression on Train's face. "Why? Why can't you see I did it for you?"

It was strange, Train thought. Creed seemed better able to deal with his anger than with Train's efforts to see him as nothing more than another criminal to be captured. Yet even his anger had an effect on the man, seemed to terrify him, as if Creed somehow expected that anger to engulf and destroy him.

Train glared up at his captor, then very slowly said, "Tell me, Creed. What would you do if you understood that you've been wrong every step of the way? What if she wasn't a witch? What if everything I felt towards her was very real and very special, just because _I_ loved her? And you took her away." He took a deep breath. "What would _you_ do if someone killed the only person you've ever loved?"

It seemed impossible for Creed's face to get whiter, yet he managed it. His thin lips quivered. "Real? No"

"Of course it was, stupid! C'mon. Even if she _was_ a witch, she is – as you say – dead. Her spell couldn't hold me. So if I still care about her it's because I always really did. If I live like she did, it's because I _want_ to. And _you_ killed her." He narrowed his eyes, allowing his cold anger to flare in them. "_You_ killed her and by doing so, have ensured that the only thing I have to give you is my hatred." He paused. "No. Not even that much. You're meaningless to me, Creed. An annoyance that I simply want out of my life."

Rather to Train's astonishment, Creed turned and ran.

---

---

Staring at the gardens outside his bedroom window, the fingers of his right hand tight upon the balustrade, Creed forced himself to breath slowly. It couldn't be the truth. It simply couldn't be. He couldn't possibly have done the one thing that would ensure his Train had stopped feeling anything for him.

Could he?

He tried not to listen. Tried to ignore Train's cold whisper in his thoughts. Tried and failed miserably. He wanted, desperately, to be told that Train was only teasing him. Wanted Train to reach out and give him one of those noogies that had always made Creed feel as if someone in this world gave a damn about him. That had made him special.

A sharp surge of loneliness twisted through Creed. So many years since that witch had died. So much time away from Train. His need for his old partner had grown since then, his utter dependence on Train's support and presence was now so deeply ingrained that it would have been like cutting out his own heart to have removed it from him. He felt so weak, shattered all the way to the bone. All it would take would be one push and he would fall.

_I misunderstood. Surely I misunderstood. I can't have hurt him. Not my Cat. Not my Train._ He would go again and find out.

_And if you are wrong? If he hates you so much that the only thing he will accept is your death?_ A little voice in his thoughts mocked him. _What then?_

He knew the answer though. There was only one answer possible.

---

---

Hours passed and Train was feeling rather bored. Then the door to the small room opened and Train looked up. Only one man was standing there, but that man was Creed, the big dark eyes watching him with that peculiar intent look he always seemed to get around Train. A look that asked a question that Train didn't know the answer to because he simply couldn't understand it.

"Well?" Train demanded, raising his handcuffed wrists from behind him as a reminder that _he_ was the prisoner here

Creed, for once, seemed at an utter loss for words. Those eyes just gazed at Train and blinked. At last the Hoshi leader spoke, his soft alto hesitant. "Have you reconsidered?"

"You're joking, right?" Train demanded angrily. "I am _not_ joining you, Creed. Get that through your thick skull. The only thing I want from you is your head on a silver platter!"

The dark eyes blinked again, staring into Train's eyes with an expression Train could only describe as that of a deer in the headlights. Then, quietly, the Hoshi leader asked, "Literally?" His voice broke a little as he asked the question.

Train was tempted to say yes, but some odd instinct told him that would be a bad idea. "I want you dead. I don't care if _I_ do it, or if they shoot you or hang you or whatever."

"I see." Creed considered that for a long moment. "Probably a good thing I don't think we have a silver platter anywhere in the house." There was a peculiar note to his voice and Train got the strangest feeling the man wasn't joking. _Which is nonsense._ Before he could say anything though, Creed turned quietly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Train leaned back on his pallet and sighed. Hopefully he'd figure a way out of this insanity. Getting captured was embarrassing enough. Spending his days hanging around in this room with only Creed's occasional attempts to get him to join the Hoshi was worse. _What does he _want_ from me?_

---

---

"What do you mean, 'leave'?" Shiki demanded angrily.

"I mean go. Leave the house. Leave the island. You want to finish your fight with Chronos, fine. Do it without me. All of you." Creed gazed coldly at those he had once called his Hoshi and waited for them to comply.

Not, of course, that they were going to do so without a serious fight. Not one of the Hoshi could understand the pain Creed felt. None of them knew what a blow he'd taken. All they knew was that their plans had been ruined.

Creed listened to the arguments for what seemed a long while to him before he drew his Imagine Blade, "If you don't go now, I'll kill you," he said softly, moving towards Shiki.

Something about his expression convinced them and they left, Ekidona the very last of the group to do so, her eyes troubled. "Creed," she whispered.

"It's over, Ekidona," he answered softly. "There's nothing left." He paused and, in a rare moment of kindness, added, "I'm sorry. Now go."

---

---

Another hour passed before the door opened again. An hour that was punctuated by an argument going on somewhere in the castle below him. Train couldn't tell what it was about, but his name was a frequent part of the shouting. At last, however, there'd been silence and now

Creed stepped in and gestured for Train to get up. He was holding Hades in his right hand and had changed his clothes to what Train suspected was one of his best suits. A black outfit with tight fitting black pants and boots and a loose fitting black silk shirt, as well as a loose black coat whose left sleeve flapped emptily. It might have been Train's imagination, of course, but it almost seemed like Creed was going out of his way to look his absolute best.

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"This isn't a good place to fire a gun," Creed pointed out quietly, gesturing with Train's weapon. "It would make an awful lot of noise. Not to mention the mess."

Train hesitated a moment, but only a moment. There was a chance Creed would make a mistake, that he'd become distracted and give Train a chance to make a grab for the gun. Or a chance to escape. He got to his feet and walked to Creed's side. "Since you put it that way," he murmured.

---

---

The two men walked silently down a long flight of stairs and out into a garden. Sunlight was streaming down on a riot of autumn colors and the bittersweet scent of fall filled the air. A cool breeze ruffled their hair, scattering dying leaves across the landscape.

"The skies are mocking me," Creed said softly, a solid lump in his throat, barely able to breathe against the pain in his chest.

"Huh?"

"This day should weep." Creed smiled weakly. "Ah well. I suppose if one must die, it may as well be in the sunlight as in the rain." He turned and looked at Train. "Turn around, please."

"Can't shoot me while looking in my face?" Train asked coldly.

"Whatever makes you think I'm going to shoot you?" Creed asked, honestly puzzled that Train would think that. Train was the one person in the world he could never intentionally hurt. _I never meant to hurt you I wish I could make you understand that._

Placing the gun carefully on a nearby urn, Creed reached into his pocket, holding up a key. "Turn around, please."

Train seemed to hesitate a moment, then swung himself around. The motion very obviously placed him so that a quick dive might allow him to reach the gun, but Creed ignored that fact as he fumbled with the lock. "I'm sorry to take so long," he whispered. "It's hard to do things one-handed." _Another two weeks and Doctor would have been done. Another two weeks and nothing could kill me. Now it no longer matters. What worth is Eternity without Him? _

At last, after much effort, Creed managed to undo the cuffs and let them fall to the ground as Train leapt for the gun and fired. Creed only dimly felt the pain of the bullet tearing through his chest and he forced himself to stand stock still as Train stared at him, gun still raised, though every instinct demanded he flee, or protect himself. He stared at Train silently, ache rising in him and tears streaming down his face. "Why do you hesitate?" he asked softly, breath agonizing. The bullet had torn through one lung and while his nano-machines were healing him, they didn't stop either the pain of being shot or the pain caused by who had shot him.

---

Stunned, Train straightened. It would be such an easy thing to fire. One bullet to the head, or to the heart, and he would end all their problems once and for all. He wondered why he'd pulled his aim. He'd certainly meant to kill. He stared at his enemy, unable to understand what was going on. Unable to understand the tears. _This isn't the first time he just stood there and let me shoot at him. Though at least then he blocked the bullets in time._ "What the hell are you doing?"

Creed looked at Train. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Giving you what you wanted." His eyes dropped to stare at the ground for a brief moment, then he seemed to force them to look into Train's. "Me. Dead."

"Have you gone completely over the edge?" Strangely, Train felt as if it were he – for once – who had been thrown off-balance. He was utterly unprepared for the situation and he simply couldn't understand it.

"Yes. There's nothing left to stand on. There's nothing" Creed's voice faltered and he coughed, blood spattering the ground between them. "You'll probably have to shoot me in the head. The nano-machines aren't cooperating right now. They're repairing the damage."

Watching Creed out of the corner of his eye, Train examined his weapon. Fully loaded, with no sign of tampering with the bullets. Incredible though it seemed, Creed really was handing himself over to Train to be killed. _There's a trick in here somewhere._

"No trickery," Creed said, almost seeming to read Train's thoughts. "You want me dead. Here I am. Kill me." More tears flowed down his cheeks and the next words seemed torn out of him. "I don't want to die but"

"Then why are you doing this?"

"You want me dead. It's the only thing I can give you that you really want. Why are you wasting time, Train? Why won't you finish it?"

Gazing at the thin, tired, face for a long moment, Train nodded. He began reloading his weapon, then moved to stand in front of Creed, raising the gun to a point directly between the pale-haired man's eyes. "All right"

"WAIT!" Creed's voice was a sharp gasp that seemed torn from his gut. ""

"Changing your mind?" Train asked coldly.

"No One last request?"

"What do you want _now_?"

Slowly, the dark eyes met Train's, pleadingly. "Hold me. Let me die in your arms at least." A small sob escaped Creed's control.

Train stared. "Hold you?" What the hell was going on in that mad little head?

"" Creed whispered.

---

Train made an exasperated sound, but he grasped Creed around the waist none the less. "Any more interruptions and I'm going to know you're not serious," he said as he raised the gun.

Creed ignored the gun, feeling the strength of that arm and unable to do anything but lean into the embrace. All his own strength was gone, shattered into nothingness. Train made a strange, startled sound as he lay his head on his Cat's shoulder and – for a brief moment – Creed felt a surge of hope. He lifted his face, saw nothing in those amber eyes to fan the hope to flame, however, and impulsively moved closer, pressing his lips against Train's warm ones.

_Please. Can't you see?_ Creed begged in his thoughts, struggling to put everything he'd ever felt, everything he wanted and needed from Train into that kiss. All that he was, all that he could ever be, tied up in loneliness and despair. _Why won't you understand? _

There was no response and he felt tears flowing down his cheeks as that last little hope died, the ember going cold and dark in the shadows of his confused mind.

---

Stunned, too stunned to move or react, Train felt the pressure of Creed's body, the force of the emotions behind the kiss. It was a terrifying, heady, sensation – Creed put so much of himself into his effort that Train had almost responded, had almost tightened his arms around his attacker without thinking. Almost, but not quite. Train wasn't that easily overwhelmed, even by a passion whose depths seemed to be limitless.

Train felt lost and confused, as if he was being carried on tsunami waves of emotions and feelings that he couldn't control. Somehow, though, he managed to hold fast, to ride the waves but not be moved by them. Instead he forced himself to stand quiet, still and unresponsive, as Creed poured everything he had into the kiss.

At last, with a sob, the white-haired man leaned back and gazed into Train's eyes. "Remember that," the Hoshi No Shito leader said with a strange sort of calm. "Remember that when you find someone you're _willing_ to love again. I pray they love you enough to kiss you that way."

"Creed"

"I pray that your love is not rejected the way you have rejected mine." Creed looked into his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks, a wistful little smile curving his lips. "I was glad, Train. So glad to be your partner. So very proud." Before Train could say anything, his enemy closed his eyes and went very still. "Now finish it."

For a moment Train hesitated, half expecting yet another interruption. Then he raised his gun again and put it against Creed's forehead. As Creed's body tensed, he pulled the trigger.

---

Creed felt the click, heard silence follow and knew what Train had done. He was confused, bewildered by the situation and barely able to maintain focus any longer, but he understood that Train – still cursed with that weakness that made him prefer not to kill – had simply pulled the trigger on an emptied gun, his peculiar sense of humor getting the better of him.

It didn't matter. Creed could only see one reasonable ending to this day. His Train didn't love him and didn't want him. His Train _hated_ him and – even if Train wouldn't do the thing himself – wanted him dead. So be it then. If Train couldn't do it, then he would do what had to be done himself.

Reaching into himself, focusing on the nano-machines that had replaced most of his heart tissue, he made them stop working. A moment of sharp pain followed, then darkness.

---

For a long moment there was silence. "Well, gee. Guess I forgot to take off the safety," Train mock-scolded himself. "You'd think I'd know bet Creed?"

Creed was a limp weight in his arms. When the trigger had clicked the Hoshi leader had opened his eyes momentarily, jerked sharply and made a strange strangled sound, slumping against Train's shoulder. Train stared into that white face and suddenly realized his former partner had fainted. _No he's not breathing What the hell?_

Dropping to the ground and laying Creed down, Train examined him. Somehow the Hoshi leader's heart had just stopped. _Did I scare him to death? Or did he believe so much that I meant to kill him that his heart stopped? Or_ Confused, Train knew one thing. He wasn't going to have this on his conscience. It was one thing to kill when you meant to. But to kill someone because of a stupid joke.

Train knelt beside Creed and began administering CPR. Minutes passed and he was just becoming sure the white-haired man wasn't going to make it, when a deep, shuddering breath went through the man's body. Dark eyes opened and stared sadly at the sky. "Why?"

"Okay, it was a stupid trick. I why didn't you leave me dead? I stopped my heart I" More tears trickled down already stained cheeks. "Please Train. I can't live with this."

Train slapped Creed across the face. "Stop that!"

Remaining hand going to cover his face, Creed shook his head wildly. "I can't Why are you torturing me? Do what you want. I can't fight anymore. I can't fight her. I can't fight _you_!" Creed shuddered. "Please"

"I'm not torturing you, you idiot. You're doing this to yourself!" Train grabbed the white-haired man by the collar and pulled him up. Forced him to look up. "What the hell do you want from me?"

The answer was so soft Train had to strain to hear it. "all I want is your love" He stared at the speaker, stunned, and suddenly found the madman launching himself forward to stare imploringly at him. Creed's hand clutched at Train's shirt as he pulled backwards. "I love you! Why can't you understand that?"

Train stared down at the man grasping at him, unable to react. It wasn't possible. Simply was not possible. Yet, in a strange way it made everything so far make sense. _All this time He's been trying to get me to join him because he loves me_ Train shook his head, grabbing Creed's left arm, feeling the stump hidden beneath the fabric. "No not love. Obsession." The thin hand clutching Train's shirt slid free and the pale face stared confusedly.

"Obsession? No! I."

"Yes. _Obsession._ All you are, Creed, is a psychotic stalker." _And if I say it fast enough, angrily enough, will that make _me_ believe it?_ He'd be more certain of himself, and less angry about it, if there wasn't that niggling little doubt. A tiny bit of uncertainty that – strangely – scared him far more than the thought of an insane man's simply choosing him as the focus for an obsession. He shoved those thoughts aside, unwilling to examine them.

" "

"Yes," Train nodded emphatically. "What you think you feel isn't love. If you loved me, you'd respect my feelings. You keep saying you'll do anything for me. Anything but leave me alone, that is!"

"I just tried to give you my life! What more do you want?" Creed asked wildly. "What am I _supposed_ to do? What do you want me to do to prove how much I love you?"

Train shook his head, almost unreasonably angry. "Damn! You are so pathetic!" It felt strangely satisfying to see how Creed flinched. He'd never seemed to get through that thick skull before and he felt he had to drive the point home. "That wasn't giving me your life. That was self-dramatization. That's all you're good at, Creed. Making a fuss! Making it all about you and your feelings. Well, what about my feelings? What about what you've done to me? To Saya?"

---

Creed slid free of Train's grasp, crumpling into tears as he curled into a ball. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I hated her I still hate her I can't _stop_ hating her. She took you from me"

"No. She couldn't take me from you. I was never yours in the first place!"

Sobbing, Creed rocked back and forth like a little child. "Never You never cared?" He lifted his face. "I _never_ mattered?" Every last foothold was gone now. Even the cold comfort that he'd meant something once to Train was being shattered into nothingness. Only minutes earlier he had said he hadn't wanted to die. Now he would have welcomed death entirely.

"You see? Even now, it's about you."

Creed went utterly still and silent. "What do I do?" he asked. "What do _you_ want me to do?" He couldn't make Train love him, he could see that, but neither could he stop loving Train. If his Cat wanted him to die, so be it. If he wanted him to stand trial, he would do it. _Anything you want from me. Anything I have the power to give. No matter what it means to me. Only please, at least see that I _do_ love you. Please. At least see that much. _

---

Train was about to say, 'go away' and 'nothing', but it suddenly occurred to him that sending a madman like Creed out into the world would be the worst thing possible. _I could just give him to Chronos Or to the local authorities_ For some reason, though, those solutions struck him as simply catering to Creed's need for self-dramatization. _Besides, what's the point? They get him, they'll execute him. Exactly what he wants. A noble end, in a way._ Train might not understand Creed well, but this much he was sure of. Creed was not really afraid of dying, but he might fear a more ignominious end.

"You're insane," Train said softly. "I can't leave a madman to wander free. You want to do what _I_ want you to? You're a sick man, Creed. Go into a sanitarium, and don't come out until you're well."

Another long silence followed as Creed's expression changed. Dark eyes wide and stricken, he stared up at Train, lips working as if he were about to burst into tears again. Then, in a frightened voice, he whispered. "All right. Where?"

Startled, Train blinked down at the pale haired man. For a moment his thoughts flailed. _He can't mean it. There's no reason he'd agree. But he is. He buckled so damned _fast_. Should I find a different No he _belongs_ in a sanitarium._ "I'll find you one."

"That's fine," Creed agreed, sighing. "Whenever wherever. It really doesn't matter to me." A thought seemed to occur to him. "Only please? Not St. Jude's? Not again? _Please_?"

Only momentarily did Train consider refusing that request, but there was real fear in the pale-haired man's eyes. Fear that would have been so easy to browbeat further. _But I'm not a bully. I want him in an asylum to get well, not so I can satisfy my own need for vengeance. Or at least, not _just_ so I can satisfy my need for vengeance._ "Trying to get back to the briar patch?" he asked, eliciting a bewildered look and frantic shaking of the head. "Either way, fine. I dunno where this St. Jude's is, but I won't put you there."

Relief suffused the pale features.

---

---

"Where's the phone?"

Creed barely looked at Train as he followed the man into the library, but he raised his hand, pointing. He felt so numb, so utterly unable to feel anything but an aching pain in his heart. _Death would be kindness._ He realized, however, that it was a kindness denied him. He fought back tears and failed.

"STOP THAT." Somehow Creed managed to look up into Train's amber eyes, then flinched away from the look in them, the utter disgust and fury. "Stop the sniffling and whining, Creed. You're not going to change my mind or make me feel sorry for you."

Creed tried very hard not to curl up into a ball. "I know that," he whispered, even as more tears trickled down.

With an irritated growl, Train went to the phone and began dialing. As he did, Creed sat on the nearest chair and struggled not to think. It wasn't working. He'd lost and now he was paying the ultimate price of that failure. _Oh God. Not again. How can I bear it?_ Long buried memories were struggling to come back. Cold and heat and loneliness. Too much noise and too little. Drugs that kept his mind from thinking, that sent him off into a place where nothing mattered and where the world outside was only a dream and the world within a nightmare of emptiness.

A peculiar feeling was starting in his belly. _Going to be sick._ "Train"

"Shut up."

"Please I have to use the washroom." He moaned, looking miserably at his love and seeing only harshness. "Please? It's just across the hall."

With an impatient sigh, Train nodded. "All right. Just don't try anything. No attempts to kill yourself, understand?"

"Yes." Creed whispered.

"And leave the door unlocked."

Creed nodded, stumbling out the door and into the washroom. Just barely in time. Nausea overcame him and he crouched over the toilet, body convulsing, the taste of bile sour in his mouth.

Only when it seemed he had nothing more to throw up did he rise, only to stumble backwards, body striking the door and closing it as cold darkness pulled him down.

---

---

"Thank GOD you're all right!" Sven grabbed Train by the shoulders and looked him over carefully. No signs of damage, just an expression that mixed exhaustion with confusion, all overlain with an anger Sven seldom saw in his friend's eyes.

Eve looked around the large, ornately furnished, library. "Where is _he_?"

Reminded of what Train had said on the phone, Sven turned rapidly around, trying to find the madman who'd caused them so much trouble. Aside from Train, though, it was empty. Train shrugged, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards a door. "In the bathroom." A frown crossed the dark-haired man's face. "Damn. I just realized how long he's been in there!"

They rushed as a group, following Train, Sven watching for any signs of a trap. As Train grabbed the door handle to the room that must have been the washroom, he muttered a curse. "Locked. That stupid."

"What are you afraid of?" Eve asked.

"He was suicidal. Within inches of killing himself. I told him he couldn't but. He's so crazy he might not listen." Train drew back, rage on his face and Sven got back as the Black Cat's foot came up and he kicked the door open. It slammed three or four inches before coming to a halt against something blocking its path.

Peering into the room, still expecting a trap, Sven saw a crumpled, dark-clad figure between the toilet and the door. A smell hit him then, the smell of sickness. The smell of terror. He stared at the scene in shock as Train shoved the door the rest of the way and tugged Creed to a sitting position.

Bewildered dark eyes blinked at Train and a soft, frightened sounding alto protested, "Itwasn't locked."

---

"The hell it wasn't!"

Train shook his captive angrily, the more so because he had felt an actual twinge of guilt. Creed looked utterly pathetic in that moment – like a little boy swamped in a costume far too big for him. "T train? Please" That little whine just made it worse, made him feel even more like hitting Creed. The man was too old to be behaving like this. "oh god please stop going t.." A moment later Train realized that he'd made an error in judgment as he found himself with a lapful of both Creed and what little was left of the contents of Creed's stomach.

Taking a deep breath, Train decided that, too, was an error in judgment. The odor in the room hadn't really hit him until now and the fact that sour bile was now soaking his pants didn't help. Creed moaned, struggling to get up, gasping, " sorry can't help sorry."

For a moment the tableau remained that way. Sven and Eve at the door, Train sitting, stunned, staring down at the white-haired head in his lap and at the spreading stain. Then, at last, Train slid out from under Creed. "Eve. I have to talk to Sven. Would you mind terribly keeping an eye on Creed until we're back? Give us a shout if there's a problem."

Eve gave him a resentful look and he took her aside. "Princess," he whispered. "I can't stand to be in the same room with Creed right now and I really need to talk about this with Sven. Please. Just don't let him do anything to himself. We'll be back soon, 'kay?"

After a moment the girl's ruby eyes quieted and she nodded.

Turning back to the door, Train added, "Creed. Given you can manage to stand up, get cleaned up and get ready. We'll be leaving soon." He left then, not even bothering to see if Creed had heard him.

---

Eve's brows drew together as she watched Creed. The man didn't seem at all the same as he had that time in the church – when he'd nearly killed, or severely injured, Sven. He looked frail, pathetic, like a broken doll. She wanted to feel angry with him for what he'd done and she simply couldn't.

As Creed struggled to his feet, she wondered if she should help him. _No. If he's trying to trick us I'm the one he'd choose. I just don't have enough experience._ It might have been a mistake to say so, but she spoke quietly. "I would offer my help, but I can't trust you."

"No. That's all right. I understand." Creed's voice was soft, distant, as if he could barely be bothered to think. "It doesn't matter. Nothing does." He splashed water on his face, leaning on the sink as if he could barely stay on his feet. _Maybe he can't._

"Are you really giving yourself up, Mr. Diskence?"

Dark eyes blinked at Eve momentarily, a small note of surprise somewhere deep beneath the apathy. "Of course. _He_ wants me to." Creed sighed and in a tiny voice added, "I haven't the strength to fight her anymore. No strength left to protect him from her."

Eve didn't need to be told whom Creed meant. 'She' was Saya, the girl Creed had killed because he'd believed she was interfering with Train. She wanted to say something, to try and make the pale-haired man understand, to somehow get a clue, but an awareness of her own lack of understanding kept her silent. Finally she couldn't help but say, "Isn't that all part of your madness? Don't you understand how insane you are?"

Looking blankly at Eve for a moment, a wistful smile crossed Creed's face. "Does it matter?" he asked softly. "What _he_ wants is what matters. He hates me." The dark eyes turned away as he filled a glass with water. "I killed the one he loved. I destroyed all hope of his caring for me."

As Eve frowned, about to protest that Train hadn't loved Saya, Creed continued tiredly, "I can take his hatred. I'll accept anything from him." He set the glass down and leaned over the sink. "I'll go back into hell, be thrown away again – back into the darkness. I can bear the sadness. I don't want to, but I have before." He sobbed softly. "It's all right. It's fine. If all he can give me is his hatred than I'll make do Survive on it as long as I can. It's better than indifference. Better than _her_ way. Her way that makes all equal and nothing important. I think I think I _would_ die if that was all there was."

Eve watched, utterly bewildered, as Creed began to weep.

---

---

"Sven's found a place called Annealment House." Train watched his captive as he stared blankly out the car window. "It's supposed to be pretty good at helping people. Modern techniques and all the latest theories."

Creed glanced his way disinterestedly. "Whatever," he whispered.

Annoyed, Train found himself smacking the man upside the head. Even more annoying was the way Creed ignored him, turning dark, empty eyes onto the window again. "I don't know why you expect me to approve," Creed whispered softly, just before Train could hit him again. "I'm doing this because it's what _you_ want me to do." He looked at Train suddenly. "Are you asking me to be happy about it, too? There are limits I don't think I can do that even for you."

Train clenched his fists, watching a small tear trickle down the man's cheek. At last he said, "I want you to listen to them. I want you to cooperate with them. No attempts to kill yourself, no attempts to escape. And don't you dare hurt or kill anyone. That's all. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. You screw up and I _will_ find that St. Jude's place and put you there!"

Another tear trickled down Creed's cheek. "I _understand_." His tone held a note of impatience. "But you won't. I'll die I _swear_ I'll _die_ before I go back there." He looked at Train bleakly. "I love you, Train. I won't defy your orders As long as I don't have to go _there_ I'll obey."

Train felt a sudden sense of doubt over what he was doing, quickly forced back and carefully ignored. "All right then."

Creed nodded emotionlessly and stared back out the window, expression empty and distant, Train shrugged to himself. _They'll have to help him somehow. Dunno what I'd do if he actually got well, but at least I won't be just abandoning him to a padded cell._ He didn't even try to think why that mattered. It just did.

To Be Continued...


	3. Exile

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

EXILE

_October 15, 2002 _

Train held the last paper still for Creed to sign, using the name that he'd chosen for the white-haired madman. It wasn't much of a concealment, but he was hoping the fact that the sanitarium was deep in territory not controlled by Chronos would ensure Creed wouldn't be found hiding under the name Cray Dickens.

"Are you absolutely certain you don't recall your birth date?" Doctor Jones, the owner and head of Annealment House asked as he put the papers away. A plain faced man, his expression was tired but friendly beneath a shock of ill-kempt grey hair. The face of a man who wanted to help.

Creed simply shook his head. "Well enough. Sometimes that can be as much a symptom as anything else. In any case, Mr. Dickens, we have some preliminary tests that we'll need to run. Then you'll be shown to your room. I hope your stay here will be helpful"

Creed looked at the doctor silently, then nodded, delicately featured face expressionless. Despite that, however, Train thought there was fear beneath the mask, an unreasoning terror that Creed was barely managing to conceal.

"I'll have to make sure everything is ready. I'll be back in a few minutes. If you'll wait here"

Once the doctor was gone, Creed glanced at Train. "Well"

"You behave." Train still couldn't quite believe this was going so quietly, that his one-time partner was accepting his orders. _Especially when it obviously terrifies him more than any other possibility. He'd take death, imprisonment, even torture without fear but this is a real source of terror._ Still, there wasn't much choice but to continue. "Don't make trouble for them. Remember what I told you."

Another slow nod, then a quiet question, "Will you be visiting?" Creed whispered the words, as if terribly afraid of the answer.

"No. This is it," Train said firmly. "You're here to get better. I don't want you to use my presence as an excuse."

The dark eyes blinked, then stared at Train with the strangest expression. Not quite pride, not quite outright unhappiness, Train still wasn't sure why the look made him feel like something low. Like he'd done something cruel. _He deserves this. Doesn't he? _

Very slowly, eyes huge as they stared at Train's face as if memorizing his features, Creed said, "I understand. You'd better go now."

---

Creed watched him go silently, struggling against an urge to cry out, struggling not to follow, to wrap his arms around the slim, dark-haired form and plead for forgiveness, for love, for another chance. He didn't want his Train's last sight of him to be of a melodramatic scene, no matter how much he felt those things in his heart. He would not, he could not, inflict himself on his love any further.

From a distance he could hear the doctor asking him to come along and he rose to his feet obediently. Train would probably never know his fate – it was obvious his love didn't care at all – but he would obey. He had no right to demand anything of Train, but he would keep the faith demanded of him, despite the cost.

A tiny, fragile hope still flickered. A hope that by submitting, by accepting what Train thought was due him, he might win a bit of acceptance. Not the love he knew now he'd never had, but something, anything, that would give him a reason to hang on.

_January 13, 2003 _

"Mr. Heartnet?"

The man standing at the doorway was the superintendent of the sanitarium where Train had placed Creed and Train felt a sharp surge of worry. "Doctor Jones. What has he done?" he demanded, to the doctor's obvious puzzlement. "Cree I mean, Cray."

"Mr. Dickens has been behaving quite well, Mr. Heartnet. You asked me to report on his status, though"

Train frowned, letting the doctor enter. "Yeah. But I sort of meant by letter or email."

"I realize that," Jones sighed. "But though Mr. Dickens isn't misbehaving, there _is_ a problem and I thought it would be better to discuss it with you in person."

Train led the older man into the living area of the safe house they were using, got them drinks and sat down. "What's the deal?"

"I think he's dying." As Train stared at the man, the doctor opened his briefcase, pulling out some photos. "er Do you want to see what I mean?"

For a brief moment Train paused, then nodded, taking the photos. "It's been three months," Jones continued, "since Mr. Dickens came to us. We try to take a photo of our inmates once a week. Sometimes it's hard to notice changes in a person when you're around them all the time. The photos can be invaluable in catching a problem early."

Train looked at the first photo, taken the first day of Creed's incarceration. Dressed in the light beige shirt and pants that was the sanitarium's uniform, the slender figure stood against a measure, pale hair falling loose around his face. Creed's expression was sad, but he looked directly at the photographer with his chin up slightly. Oddly, the expression seemed familiar and after a moment Train remembered – it was the same one Creed had worn when Train had told him that he was never going to see him again.

Week two seemed much the same, as did three, though Creed's hair had been cropped short, giving his thin face an oddly lost appearance. Week four showed a marked difference from the first, causing Train to focus more on the little things. It wasn't obvious how, but Creed seemed gaunter, more tired. _Shorter? No, he's slumping a bit._ Each photo got a bit worse each time. It was like watching a man aging before his eyes. By the last photo it was obvious that something was terribly wrong.

"He's losing weight. Not so fast as to be readily obvious, but faster than is normal, considering that he eats what's given him. We noticed two weeks ago and we've been giving him more and watching to make sure he doesn't throw it up. He doesn't. As far as we can tell, his body just isn't digesting what he eats properly."

"Has he said anything?"

"He talks only when spoken to. He answers every question, responds with perfect courtesy, but I'd swear I know no more about what he's thinking and feeling than I did when we started. It's not deliberate obtuseness, more like he's just drifting."

Train considered that. "Surely he's said something that might help explain this?"

"The closest I can come to it is that he's lonely. He's sad and somehow he seems to be wasting away from it." At Train's frown, the doctor shook his head. "I know. People don't ordinarily die of sadness this fast. It's almost like he's being eaten away."

"His nano-machines." The speaker was Eve, who was standing at the kitchen doorway watching the two men. The small girl gazed solemnly at them, her red eyes serious. Train had to wonder what the doctor would make of her. Would he see the apparent thirteen year old dressed in blacks that managed to make even her brownish blonde hair and light features seem Goth, or would he see the brilliantly quick and agile mind that made their junior partner such a strong member of their team?

"What?" The doctor looked startled, then blinked. "Oh yes, he mentioned something of the sort. They're supposed to be repairing his injured arm, right? I have to admit I'd take it with a grain of salt if I hadn't seen the CRT scan."

"Eh?" Train blinked at the older man. "What do you mean?"

"We do a full medical work-up of our patients, Mr. Heartnet. Mr. Dickens' scan showed activity almost like brainwave activity occurring throughout his body. It also showed signs of a healed brain injury, as well as another much older one." The doctor shrugged. "In any case, miss, why do you think they have something to do with this?"

"I'm not sure," Eve said quietly. "I think, though, that if they're like mine, then his thoughts and feelings have a lot to do with how they behave. I've done some reading and some of what I found indicates that one's health depends in part on one's state of mind. If his state of mind is depressed or unhappy, the nano-machines might echo that state. Have you done any recent CRT scans?"

"No. I've had no reason to Wait, what do you mean like yours"

Eve sighed, reshaping her hand into a metal hammer, then back to its human configuration. "He probably doesn't have enough nano-machines to let him do something like this, but if the ones he has are controlled in a similar fashion, then Well, I know if I started mentally eating myself up, my nano-machines would be entirely too cooperative. It sounds to me like he doesn't really want to live. It may be that the only thing that's keeping them from just killing him outright is that while he doesn't want to live, he doesn't actively want to die, either."

Train shook his head. "Damn him. He just has to keep dramatizing himself. Has he said anything at all to explain why he's unhappy? Why he's lonely?"

Again the doctor shook his head. "I've taped one of our conversations. Maybe you could figure it out?" He held out a recorder and, at Train's nod, turned it on.

"How are you feeling?" Jones' voice came over the recorder.

"Numb. Empty."

"Can you tell me why?"

"I couldn't say. It's nothing. There's nothing." Creed's voice was soft, wistful, like a child's.

"Do you like it here?"

"It doesn't matter if I like it. I'm here until I'm well or dead" He laughed humorlessly. "Same difference."

"Why do you say that? Do you want to kill yourself?"

"I wouldn't mind it, but _he_ doesn't want me to do that."

"He?"

Silence followed for a moment. "Train."

"Train matters to you, then?"

"Everything he's everything to me Oh never mind. What I feel about him isn't important. _I_ don't matter to _him_." Train winced at the agony in Creed's whisper. "If I'm a good boy do you think I'd matter a little to him?"

"You should matter to yourself first, surely, don't you think?"

"No. It's not about me. Nothing's about me." Train felt a sharp pang of annoyance at the words. Creed wasn't supposed to turn Train's words around that way.

Jones obviously tried a different tack. "Why are you here, Cray?"

"To stay until I'm well."

"Then would you like to leave?"

"I can't. He doesn't want me to leave until I'm well."

"If you got well, then you could go"

"He thinks that part of getting well is stopping loving him. I can't do that. I can _not_ stop." Creed's voice broke. "I'll die before I stop loving him. I'll be here till I die. It's fine. Only"

"Only?"

"Sometimes I get so lonely."

The doctor stopped the tape. "That's pretty much the kind of things we talk about. He refuses to talk about his past. He says it's over and done, that he doesn't remember it, or that he can't tell me because then he'd have to kill me. I haven't pushed the point. From what you've told me, that would be exceedingly risky."

"Yes, it would," Train agreed and gazed thoughtfully down at the tape recorder. He was getting an inkling of what was going on and he didn't like it. It smacked of a passive aggressive attempt to get what Train simply didn't want to give. "I know what he's trying to do," he said angrily.

"What?"

"Trying to make me come to him. He's still so damned obsessed with me that he's letting himself die just so I'll change my mind. You tell him I know that's what he's doing. That it isn't changing my mind. I do _not_ want to see him. Ever."

"Train," Eve protested. "That could make things worse. He."

"I doubt it. Creed loves life. He was trying to gain immortality. I cannot imagine him willing to give up living once he realizes the game's up. He'll find another tactic."

Eve shook her head. "You're making a mistake."

"Eve, you haven't got the experience to understand the situation! Leave it _alone_!" Train watched her shake her head and leave the room, then turned to the doctor. "Is there anything else?"

Dr. Jones rose, expression peculiar, as if he were frightened. Then he shook it off. "You've answered my questions, some I hadn't even asked, as well. Now I have an idea of what it is he's wanting and refusing to ask for, but I don't know. I'll be in touch."

_January 14, 2003 _

Creed listened to the doctor's quiet voice, hearing the effort to put the gentlest light on Train's message and he smiled wistfully. "I understand, Dr. Jones."

"Cree I mean, Cray? Do you understand that your condition may depend on your state of mind? That if you're going to get well you are going to _have_ to help me get you past this?" There was a note of fear in the doctor's voice and it occurred to Creed that the man had nearly used his real name, that he knew who Creed was and was half-expecting him to react with violence.

Creed shrugged off the thought, staring up at the ceiling, sadness deepening into a solid knot of numbness. _I can't feel my chest,_ he thought tiredly. _Can't feel a thing anymore._ The image in his thoughts was of himself standing in the darkness, a slowly dwindling light fading away, leaving him bereft and lonely.

"Cray?"

Ignoring the doctor's worried voice, Creed closed his eyes. He couldn't die and he couldn't live. Without the nano-machines, maybe, just maybe, he'd have time to find his way out of the morass into which he'd worked himself, but with them that day would never come. They'd been slowing down, putting next to no effort into repairing his body and keeping him well. Now, knowing that Train knew what state he was in, knowing that even that wasn't enough to convince Train how much he was needed, Creed knew he had no strength left to fight, no reason left to live. _and nothing left to live for. _

"I'll be good, Doctor," Creed whispered softly. "I promised Train. You don't have to be afraid of me. I'll be faithful unto death. It won't take very long. Not very long at all."

_January 20, 2003 _

Train strode through the hospital halls with a howling rage rising in him. _Damn him. Damn him. He's not supposed to be doing this. He's supposed to get better and get out of my life. Not get worse!_

Apparently, though, getting better wasn't part of Creed's game plan. The message he'd sent the madman had only made things worse, sending Creed into a rapid downward spiral that had ended up putting him the asylum's hospital. It didn't help Train's mood that this result had given Eve yet another chance to say 'I told you so', if not in so many words.

_What does she mean he's dying because I don't feel anything at all about him? It's a load of CRAP! If it weren't obvious that that's what he wants I'd _kill_ him!_ Train thought to himself as he reached the door to Creed's room. He pushed it open and stopped, staring in utter shock.

What sat at the window staring wistfully out was nearly a skeleton. Well, it wasn't quite that bad, but a man who usually took care to look good should _not_ look so much like a war refugee. Shaved only because the nurses were doing it for him, the pale man's skin had a grey undertone. His cheeks were sunken and his white hair was a tousled mass of dandelion fluff. An IV dripped its contents slowly into his right arm.

Without turning to look at him, Creed whispered, "Go away, Train."

"The hell I will. You play this game to get me here"

"Game? I'm playing no game." The dark eyes continued staring out the window. "You said you never wanted to see me ever So _who_ is playing a game here?" The soft voice held, almost to Train's stunned amazement, anger. "I have never asked you to come. Never, since the moment I agreed to your demands, have I asked a thing of you. So go. Leave me to the path _you_ chose for me."

"I didn't choose this path so you could kill yourself!"

---

Creed slowly turned to look at Train. "I'm _not_ killing myself. I'm simply choosing not to live." Somehow he managed a flicker of his old pride in the words, a pride that he hoped hid the way Train's behavior hurt. It was the expression in Train's eyes, the cold, uncaring look of a Sweeper for their target, that agonized him more and he dropped his eyes.

"It's the _same_ thing!"

"No. It is _not_. I have kept every promise I've made to you. I have cooperated with these people. I have not tried to escape and I have accepted their guidance. But while you can command so many things of me, there is one thing you cannot have. You cannot stop my need for you and you cannot make me _want_ to live without you." Creed trembled, wanting to look into those eyes, desperate to see something, anything, that would say he mattered and knowing perfectly well it wouldn't be there. _Please. I can't bear it. _

Train apparently decided to try a different tactic. "Creed, if you stopped loving me you could leave," he offered, almost wheedled, "If this place is so hard to bear, then just learn not to love me" Creed stared at him blankly and he stopped, as if something in Creed's expression made it impossible to continue.

"Shall I stop the sun in its course, while I'm at it?" Creed asked, a faint heat of anger forming in him. "Turn back the waves from the shore? I tried to give you the world and you didn't want that. All you want from me is the one thing I _cannot_ give." He stared up at his beloved, at the spiky dark hair and golden eyes and could have wept for sheer longing.

Growling a curse, Train stepped forward, towering over Creed as he snapped, "Creed, you stupid Why do you have to be so obstinate So much in denial? So SELFISH!"

Creed looked at Train for a long moment, then stared back down at his remainging hand. "Obstinate. In denial. Selfish. Indeed. I suppose I am all that and more. But then so are you."

---

Now it was Train's turn to stare blankly. "What?"

"_You_ are obstinate. You insist that I live according to _your_ wishes."

"I" Train started to protest, but Creed shook his head.

"_You_ are in denial. You think I can stop loving you _because_ I love you"

That made sense, but Train didn't want to admit it. Still, he whispered, "Maybe"

"_You_ are selfish. You want me to do these things, not for my sake, but for your own."

Now that really torqued Train off. _How can he say that I_ "That's not"

Creed looked up sharply, dark eyes intent. "Because you do not want to be bothered."

Only silence was possible. Train suddenly looked at himself, at what he was saying and doing and demanding and felt stunned and suddenly guilty. _He's right._

Creed continued, voice soft as his eyes fell again. "I love you," he whispered. "Because I love you, I will stay here. Because I love you, I will not kill myself I will not _take_ my life." He took a deep, tired, breath. "But Because you are the only sunlight I have ever known, I can only fade without you."

The words hit Train in the pit of his stomach and he was unable to speak for several minutes. Instead he just stared at the figure in front of him, at the fragile body and the defeated pose. Guilt mixed with anger and he wanted to fight and yell and scream. He did none of those things, not just because this was a hospital but because some inner shift in his thoughts was trying to occur.

Making one last ditch effort to fight what he feared was going to happen, he shook his head. "You're not a plant. That's just insane." He paused, realized the foolishness of that remark and added, "er strike that. No one dies of a broken heart, not even someone as mad and obsessed as you are."

---

Creed smiled a little at Train's naiveté. "Oh, but they do. Ask the doctor if it's possible," he disagreed. "I'm just doing it a lot faster than most." He sighed, barely able to feel the motion. He was so very tired. "You can force me not to kill myself, Train. You cannot make me _want_ to live. The price of the nano-machines. They respond to what I feel. And before you say that all I feel towards you is an obsession, answer me one thing. What makes you so sure that – just because I'm mad – I cannot love?"

Train's voice almost sounded shaken. "Maybe." There was a momentary silence, then, "All right. I'll make you a deal. I'll visit you and you work on getting over me. Then you can leave and do whatever floats your boat."

Creed looked up at him, a momentary surge of hope trying to resurrect itself in his chest. Then he turned away and shook his head. "No deal."

"Why?" Train demanded. "I know you. You could milk it for all you're worth."

"Indeed – and no doubt I would – but then I'd be lying to you. I won't do that, either. I won't make a promise to you that I can _not_ keep, Train. That would be wrong." Creed shook his head. The temptation had been almost unbearable, but it wouldn't be fair to Train. He knew his heart only too well. He could not stop loving so easily and if Train were to visit him his beloved would never be free of his unwelcome weight. _Please. I'm so tired. Let me die. Let me go, Train. Let it be over._

---

Blinking in astonishment, Train had to wonder that even Creed's definition of wrong and right was guided entirely around Train's existence. _Yet somehow it's more honest than I'd have expected of him._ Train might not like being the focus of Creed's entire self like this, but he had to admit that it was better that Creed admitted that he couldn't make such a promise rather than pretend that it was possible. At least this way they both knew where Creed was standing. Train sighed at Creed's mumbled thoughts. "I can't do that, Creed."

A puzzled look crossed Creed's face and Train realized the man had had no idea that he'd spoken aloud. "I can't let you kill yourself, Creed," he clarified.

Confused dark eyes looked away. "I don't know why not. I killed Saya. Caused you no end of trouble. No end of hurt. Leave me alive and all am I is a festering sore in your memory. Let me die and it's all over. All done. Closure for both of us. You can go and be happy, and I." He choked, then forced himself to continue with obvious effort. "I won't feel anything anymore. Won't have to hurt anymore."

"That isn't a solution. That's giving up." Train shook his head. "I won't do it."

"All right." Creed sighed. "It's fine. Whatever you want to do. It's fine."

Train wanted to say that it didn't sound like Creed thought it was all that fine, but he shoved that thought away angrily. "I don't know what to do with you!" Creed's tired smile and shake of the head only irritated him more. "Well? You were the smart one, Creed. So tell me? What ought I do?"

---

Gazing at Train momentarily, a faint, sad, smile crossed Creed's face. "You never listen to me anyway," he pointed out. Then he shrugged at Train's stubborn expression. "Very well. Your options depend entirely on what you really feel."

"Eh?"

"You are here for one of three reasons. One, you really don't care and you're simply making sure I know that. I doubt that, though. If you didn't care, you wouldn't even know what was happening to me. Just your presence here says you feel something about me." Somehow Creed forced back the thought that that feeling was anything kindly, though it hurt to think of the alternative, he knew it for the truth. He dared believe nothing else.

Train seemed to consider that. "Go on."

"Second, you really do care whether or not I live or die. In which case, I think you know the answer. Thirdly you hate me so much that you're doing everything you can to keep me alive for as long as possible to torment me." Creed felt his voice break and cursed his inability to conceal his feelings any longer. "No doubt the third option's the truest. I've caused you so much pain and while I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, I can't be sorry for what I did."

Train stared blankly, looking ready to protest, but Creed whispered, "If it _is_ that which brings you here, then you are as successful as you can be. Would you like to watch me die? The more you torment me, the longer you force me away from your light and deny me, the closer I come to death. I cannot bear what you do to me, Train. I cannot live with your hatred and I cannot take my life. But nothing in the world can make me hold on to it, either."

Raising his eyes to Train, Creed managed a slow, weak, smile. "If slowly torturing me to death _is_ what you want I'll do my best to cooperate. I'll try to live as long as I can. It won't be very long. I can't stop the thoughts that are killing me. Can't stop the loneliness I." Again his voice broke and he lowered his head, fighting back the tears by main force. "But that's okay. It's fine."

"You did without me before," Train protested. "It's been years since we were partnered."

Creed nodded still staring down. "Hope is an anchor. I could dream then," he whispered. "I have no dreams left. No hope." _Nothing but the shadows. _

"I have to think" Train's voice as he answered held the strangest note. The Creed from before would have interpreted it as kindness, but that Creed was dead, had died in those moments when Train had made it clear that he had never felt anything towards his former partner but contempt. _All I have ever been to him is garbage. I have to accept that. _

Nodding, Creed turned and looked back out the window at the gardens below, at the cemetery further out. "As you wish, Train. It's not like I'm going anywhere yet."

---

---

Outside, sitting in the garden with a jug of milk bought from the cafeteria, Train stared out at the scene, not really seeing the snow covered beds, barely noticing the chill air. How he felt was such a difficult thing to figure out. Creed was right about one thing, though. If he really didn't care at all he wouldn't have asked to be told what was happening with the madman. At most he would have asked to know if Creed escaped or when he died. Nothing more.

So the question was, was he really trying to torment the poor jerk or did he really want to help? It was, he thought, a mixture of both. He'd certainly wanted to see Creed chastened. To see him realizing the wrongs he'd done. To see something other than that obsessed gleam in those eyes. The thing was, now that he _had_ seen something else, the satisfaction he ought to have felt was soured.

Train remembered the quiet despair in Creed's voice, the way the pale haired man had forced himself under agonizing control, and it amazed Train to realize that throughout their conversation, Creed had not wept once. Somehow the depth of his pain seemed all the greater for the effort that he was putting towards controlling it.

A part of Train thought it might have been pride that held back the tears but a mocking voice in the Sweeper's head told him that those tears had been hidden for another reason. That Creed had, quite simply, not wanted to inflict his distress on the one he felt he loved. That he knew how much Train hated when he behaved like an overwrought teenager and was doing his best to accommodate Train's discomfort.

_Was_ what Creed felt just obsession? Certainly it appeared to be much of what drove Creed's behavior, but what if it really was more? Creed had no idea how to show love. Had been mad from the beginning. Train remembered the inappropriate laughter, the strange mood swings that had often disconcerted him during their partnership. Remembered too the almost child-like trust Creed placed in him. The perfect faith in Train's strength and skill.

Child-like. Yes, that was it. Creed was an intellectual adult but emotionally no better than a four year old. _If even that much._ Train wondered how his former partner had ever managed to function in society at all and remembered too that the only person Creed seemed to function well around _was me._

_So. What am I supposed to do? Do I want him to die? Do I hate him enough to force him to die a slow, lingering, death?_ Train shook his head. That wasn't true. He knew he was still angry at Creed. Might remain angry at Creed for a long time. Yet at the same time, what he felt was

_Pity. It isn't what he wants, I'm sure, but_ Train sighed. He knew what he had to do.

---

---

"So. Tell me. How often to you want me to come here? Every day isn't an answer. I have a job, after all." Creed flinched at Train's question. Flinched and turned away, to nearly fall out of his chair, his weakened body unable to catch itself in time. A strong hand reached out, grasped him by the elbow and straightened him with a gentleness he knew he did not deserve and ought not ask for. "Creed? What is it?"

"Don't oh please I don't Please" Creed shuddered with the force of his fear. So this was Train's decision, to watch him die in slow increments, to tempt him with hope until his broken heart and shattered spirit could take no more. He dared not allow himself to believe anything else. "So cruel. Even shaped by her spell, you can be so cruel."

Train's voice in his ear was gentle, kinder even than his first words when he'd re-entered the room. "Creed. I'll come. No caveats. No strings attached. Once a week? Given I'm not on a job? I'll come and I'll talk if that's what you want. Or we can share a jug of milk or something. I really am _not_ trying to hurt you."

Creed bit his lip. "Once a week, then." The words were torn from him. "Pathetic," he whispered. "So pathetic I'll take even your hatred." He lowered his head and trembled at Train's touch on his shoulder.

To Be Continued


	4. Intermezzo: Hoshi No Shito

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

* * *

INTERMEZZO: HOSHI NO SHITO

_February 11, 2003 _

"Why are we still bothering with him?" Shiki's voice echoed softly in the darkened room as the core leadership of the Hoshi No Shito gazed at the image projected from the Taoist sorcerer's crystal ball. Two figures dominated, one dark haired and boyishly handsome, the other pale haired and almost wasted away. To Ekidona, watching the man she'd once called her leader, the man for whom she'd cared most about in the Hoshi, it was painful to watch.

Creed was so thin, so desperately fragile. The only life was in his eyes and that was a peculiar, smoldering, life that seemed only to burn bright when his companion was there. The former model sighed. She knew obsession when she saw it, knew loneliness and despair. She would have done much to ease that pain. She had even tried to convince her former leader to let her teleport him from the place where Train had put him, but Creed had refused, prepared to waste away entirely rather than break the promise he'd made to a man who'd shown him nothing but hate.

Fiddling nervously with a wisp of hair that had fallen forward, Ekidona glanced at her compatriots. Leon, a mere boy, looking bored beyond belief over the whole situation. Shiki, wrapped as always in scarves and a cloak that concealed a face Ekidona had never seen, as well as a tiny body that made her wonder if it were a dwarf or a child beneath those robes. Doctor, dark hair and studious expression behind horn rimmed glasses, and Etess, currently wearing Ekidona's own shape – much to the teleporter's irritation. It wasn't that she minded seeing herself but Etess' tendency to sit like the orangutan he actually was made her wince. It didn't help that the Tao-endowed ape hadn't bothered to change out of his usual loose robes, meaning that Leon was getting a better idea of what Ekidona looked like under her carefully designed lace jacket and dress suit than she really cared to think about. _That and I really hope I don't look that fat from behind. _

"The nano-machines I gave him are operating entirely contrary to expectations," Doctor noted quietly. "If Mr. Heartnet is able to draw Creed back out of his current depression it's possible that what we learn from Creed's colony will be of great assistance to our plans."

"Our plans?" Shiki repeated derisively. "Your plans, rather. I don't recall _ever_ agreeing to those damned things. The only reason I'm putting up with it is because _you_ are still useful to me. I should never have let you convince me to accept that maniac as our leader." He snorted. "Stupid things. Have you managed to teach them to cure the common cold yet?"

The look Doctor gave Shiki was icy. "Etess and I are still experimenting on the GodBody strain. Which is why I need to keep an eye on what happens with Creed. He's the first person whose body has managed to assimilate the Lucifer nano-machines so successfully. Not even Heartnet – though he survived their entry into his body practically unaffected – has been able to utilize them in such a variety of ways."

Ekidona remembered one of the ways Creed had utilized them, joining the nano-machines with the Tao power that had allowed him to create the Imagine Blade – that mind weapon that could cut through nearly anything its wielder used it upon – to create a mad blade resembling a landshark. That had been a defining moment for her, telling her that, despite all his lovely courtesy and apparent strength of will, there was a raving lunatic barely able to control himself. Were it not for the pain in Creed's eyes, the infernal sadness that seemed part and parcel of his lunacy, Ekidona would have left the Hoshi behind as others had before her.

Listening to her compatriots argue, Ekidona wondered if maybe she should do so now.

To Be Continued...


	5. The Healing Touch

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

* * *

THE HEALING TOUCH

_March 3, 2003 _

Train pushed the wheelchair out through the garden and stopped in a quiet sunlit area beside a small pond. "Hey, bet I could hit that alligator head they got out there," he said, dropping into the grass beside the chair and pointing at the plastic float that was apparently there to scare off predators. He sprawled in the grass, black clad legs stretched out in front of him, and leaned back on his hands. It was perfect weather for a snooze, but that wasn't why he was here.

It took Creed several minutes to respond, long enough that Train nearly rose up on his knees and poked the man in the arm. "I'm sure you could," Creed murmured at last, gazing distantly at the glitter of sunlight on the water. His tone was as far away as his gaze, as if he'd barely comprehended what Train was saying.

Sighing, Train dropped back onto his elbows and shook his head. "It's been what? Almost two months now? You planning on getting better any time soon? I don't mind visiting if it's going to help, but I swear you're just getting worse here." That wasn't quite accurate. Creed would rally, recover a bit, then slide slowly back to where he'd been and, just maybe, a bit further down the slope. He _was_ fighting, but lack of faith seemed to make it impossible for him to do more than break even momentarily. As ill as he was, that wasn't enough.

Another long silence followed and Train realized that Creed's lips were trembling, as if there was something the madman wanted to say but either could not or would not. Thin fingers picked nervously at the plaid blanket covering him and dark eyes blinked away tears. "What is it, Creed? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"How dare I?" the pale-haired man whispered. "I tried already. Tried and failed."

Train considered that a moment. "You're afraid?"

"Terrified." Even the fact that Creed admitted so much told Train that there was a major shift in his companion's thought processes. The Creed he'd partnered with had never made such an admission. Then Creed added, almost wistfully, "Is that what you want?"

---

Creed couldn't understand why Train dropped his head onto his forearms and sighed exasperatedly. _I shouldn't have asked, I suppose. But I don't know what to do I just don't know anymore._

"Creed," Train said, and his tone held an obvious effort to be patient. "What I want is for you to start getting better. Not to drive yourself further into a squirrel cage because you think I want you to die slowly."

Somehow Creed managed to shake his head. "" he whispered. "Can't Can't stop"

"I didn't say one word about stopping loving me," Train sighed, seeming to read his thoughts. "I said I want you to get better physically."

Again Creed shook his head. To get better would require trusting this kindness Train seemed to be offering. Would require putting faith in something that had already proved too fragile a ground to support him. He wanted to. Wanted to with such utter desperation that his entire body trembled with the effort to fight it, but he knew he mustn't.

"You," Train muttered tiredly, "are exasperating. Why not? Why won't you trust me?"

"I" Creed found himself trying to curl into a little ball. "I can't Don't dare. Too much Can't risk it I can't Want to want to live CAN'T"

---

It suddenly hit Train what was troubling his former partner. It was a moment of rare understanding for Train and it clarified so much. _He's afraid. Afraid that if he trusts his feelings about me, if he puts any faith in what he thinks I want from him he'll be wrong again. Even when I tell him this isn't what I want, he can't believe it._

Creed's ego had been immense, but it was the immensity of an over-inflated balloon. The knowledge that he'd spent all this time wrongly believing that Train both cared about and loved him had very effectively pricked that balloon. _And now his ego is shattered. He can't come back without repairing the damage._

The question was, how could Train repair what he'd done to Creed without recreating the original problem? He had wanted Creed to understand, wanted Creed to realize the harm he'd done and he had certainly wanted to hurt. _But I swear, no matter how angry I am or have been with him, that _this _isn't what I wanted. Not this slow fading into despair and death._

"Creed," Train murmured gently. "Tell me something. What kind of person do you think I am?"

Dark eyes glanced Train's way with a bewildered expression. "I don't think I understand."

"Am I straightforward and honest? Or am I shrewd and devious?"

---

Creed frowned at his beloved, trying to understand the nature of the question. Wasn't it obvious? "You're shrewd and devious," he replied finally and was confused at the way Train stared at him, as if he were about to fall over in shock. "What else?" he asked, almost glad to change the subject from himself to Train. "How else do you win so easily? You think circles around everybody else. Even me."

Train's eyes slowly returned to normal. "Creed, I'm lucky. I've always been lucky. You knew that when we were partners."

"You kept your plans to yourself, that's all. Look at what you did when you came to meet me at the tower. You knew we'd expect you to come in by the only possible entrance, so you made your own."

"That's not being shrewd, damnit! That's just good sense. Never do the expected. It has nothing to do with being smarter than someone else."

Creed shook his head. It made no sense to him. His Cat was brilliant, a tactician par excellence. Of _course_ he was devious and shrewd and sly and "Perfect"

"I am _not_ perfect. I nearly got my ass killed" Train took a deep breath, apparently trying to restore his own equilibrium. "Well, damn. Now it's you doing it to me." At Creed's puzzled look, Train grinned wanly. "You always got so hot under the collar when I did something unexpected. Now here _you_ are being unexpected and I feel like I want to shake you."

"I'm _not_ being unexpected," Creed whispered. "I'm being perfectly reasonable." He paused, doubt suddenly assailing him as another bit of certainty slid out from under him. "Aren't I?" _Why am I so stupid? _

---

Train sighed, looking at the way Creed shifted back into the depression that was killing him, mumbling his thoughts aloud without seeming to realize it. "Creed. You're _not_ stupid. It's just that I don't think you have any idea what 'perfectly reasonable' is." He shook his head. "Look, the first thing I want you to understand is that I am _not_ trying to make you die a slow, lingering, death. I want to help you"

"Why?" Creed looked at Train with a helpless expression. "How can I believe that when I know what I've done to you is unforgivable?"

Thinking about that, Train sighed softly. "Maybe it is, but this" he gestured at Creed, at the pathetic and fragile body that was slowly dying in front of him, "isn't going to earn my forgiveness either." He cocked his head at Creed and added, "What do I do, Creed? How do I convince you? I don't love you, but I don't want you to die."

Creed blinked at Train for a long moment, then smiled a strange, fey, little smile. "I don't see why not" he whispered. "After all that I've done All I am is your stalker"

Train clenched his fists, aggravated beyond belief. Bad enough that he couldn't get through to the man, worse that Creed would throw his own words into his face. "I have half a mind to shake you till your brain falls back in place."

"Why don't you?" Creed asked, dark eyes turning disinterestedly away. "It's not like there's much left to affect."

Not quite sure why he did it, but some instinct driving him none the less, Train reached out, grabbing Creed around the shoulders and proceeded to noogie him.

---

The feel of Train's hand rubbing the top of his head, his other arm wrapped around Creed's neck in a gesture that mixed exasperation with friendly concern – at least to Creed's confused mind – caused him to stiffen and try and pull free.

"Still want me to shake you?" Train growled in his ear, tone not nearly as angry as Creed thought it ought to be. "Godamnit, Creed."

"Don't please" Creed struggled against both himself and Train, but that part of him that needed and wanted whatever affection his beloved was pleased to give him made him lean into the gesture, tears starting down his face in earnest. _No. I can't. I can't do this to him. Can't tie him to me. I can't._

It was a hopeless fight. He'd wanted Train's attention so badly. Needed the physical contact terribly. Needed the warmth of that other body against his, the scent of him in his nostrils. Noogies weren't his deepest and truest wish but they were a safe and acceptable substitute. They might not mean Train loved him, but they at least meant Train gave a shit and – for the moment at least – that was all Creed really needed to know.

Sobbing, he lay in Train's arms and, despite himself, began to heal.

To Be Continued...


	6. The Body Follows the Mind

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE BODY FOLLOWS THE MIND

_April 15, 2003 _

"Yoohoo Creed." Train opened the door to Creed's room and leaned in, a book of poetry – requested at his last visit – in one hand. "Creed? Sorry to be late but"

There was silence from the huddled figure on the bed. That alone was strange enough. By this hour Creed was usually sitting at the window watching the gardens outside or reading a book. He'd begun getting better over the last few months, ever since that day that Train had finally convinced the white-haired madman that his beloved Black Cat wasn't trying to hurt him further. Creed's recovery afterwards was a slow, halting, process, blockaded by uncertainty and fear, but he was clearly getting better.

"Creed?" The figure didn't move, just made a strange, thin, keening sound. Train set the book down and stepped to the side of the bed. "Aww, c'mon Creed. I was only fifteen minutes late Don't do this to me minutes" Creed gasped. "And I'm not"

"Even twenty-six minutes isn't _that_ long," Train sighed. "And you don't have to count every min Creed?" His former partner was curling up into a ball and making a sound rather like a weasel trying to gnaw off its leg from a trap, blankets wrapped so tight around him he looked like a mummy. "Creed stop Don't do this"

"Creed, you can't get this way everytime I'm late"

The white head made a sharp motion of negation. "No. Not you. Not because you're late Hurts" He moaned, clutching at his left arm and suddenly Train realized he was in physical pain.

Carefully, Train nudged Creed onto his back and stared at his left arm. He seldom actually looked at the stump Janos' glove had left Creed during the fight they'd had a few months earlier. Still, it looked strange, changed even. Not at all like a normal stump. The raw, reddened skin seemed almost to be stretching over the joint of the wrist. _Over the _wrist_? What the_ Train didn't know how much Janos had taken off in his attack, not having witnessed it, but he was sure of one thing. When he'd committed Creed to the asylum the stump had ended about halfway down from the elbow. "It's _growing back_?" he gasped.

---

A thin moan escaped Creed's lips. "Yes" Despite himself, he whimpered as Train's fingers traced the scarred edges of his regenerating hand. Train's touch was always something to be desired, but it hurt so much.

"The nano-machines?" Train asked, bemusedly.

For a moment an exhausted nod was the only answer Creed was capable of. He'd fought the pain for most of the afternoon, trying to hold it off until Train had come and gone. He had so wanted not to let Train know the agony he was in. He curled up again and fought back another cry of pain. "The joints are the hard part I had to be heavily drugged for the elbow Just before you came for me" He managed a faint laugh. "I may need to be knocked out entirely for the fingers" Reminded of something, he added, sadly. "What a horrible birthday gift to give you."

Train blinked, as if it surprised him that Creed remembered his birthday had just passed. Then he smiled. "I dunno. Your nano-machines are fixing you. That means you're healing inside as well as out, right? " A slow, startled nod, was the only response. Then Train patted Creed on the shoulder. "So. You want me to get the doctor for this now?"

For a moment Creed hesitated, but before Train could scold him, he nodded, regretfully. "I was hoping I could hold off until after your visit. Guess not." He smiled, wistfully, "Thank you, Train."

---

---

_April 22, 2003 _

"Mr. Heartnet. We weren't expecting you today."

Train raised a brow, grinning. "It's my usual day," he pointed out.

A small grin quirked the doctor's lips. "Yes, but Mr. Dickens did tell you that a visit was pointless, considering we're keeping him under heavy sedation until his hand finishes growing back." He made a small snort as he walked beside Train, grey eyes taking everything in as he passed his charges, "I can't believe I'm saying that. Even seeing it, I can't believe it." He paused to pull a blanket up over one patient's lap as the girl slept in one of the hallway chairs.

"I just figured I'd stop in, see how he's doing." Train continued down the hall to Creed's room once the doctor was done. "He _is_ okay, yes?"

"Feverish. Even the sedative isn't perfect. I doubt he'll know you're there." The doctor opened the door and gestured into the darkened room. "But as long as you're quiet, there shouldn't be a problem."

Nodding, Train walked in and stopped at Creed's bedside. In the dim light, there was something almost ethereal about the white-haired head on the pillow. There was a soft muttering sound, words whispered in what Train thought was French, but too colloquial to be understood. Looking over his former partner, Train noted that he was looking a lot better than he had four months ago. The near skeletal body had filled out, restoring some of the old prettiness, and even Creed's skinny arms and legs had more muscle tone to them. What was happening now was just a matter of pain, and while he was certain the re-growth was agony, Train sensed that the body and mind was actively working towards recovery.

Sitting beside the bed, Train looked at the mad-man's left arm, lain carefully propped up beside him so that the hand touched nothing. "Well, it shouldn't be too much longer," he murmured. The fingers had formed up to the first joint. He looked up at Creed's face and something made him reach out and touch the beige clad shoulder.

Rather to Train's surprise, Creed moved his head slightly, pressing it against Train's hand and almost nuzzling at it. Too startled to pull back, Train blinked at the man. A soft sound, a murmur of pleasure, escaped Creed's lips. "Tu m'enivre" he whispered. "Mon Chat."

It took Train a moment to work out the French. _You intoxicate me. My Cat._ Train sighed, shaking his head. Even knocked half-conscious that strange need never disappeared. "Creed? How you doing?"

"Love you Love you so much." The whispered words made Train realize that while Creed might – on some level – be aware of his presence, the madman wasn't conscious enough to really communicate. Again the pale head moved, again it pressed close to Train's hand as Creed murmured more endearments.

---

Creed drifted, floating on a milk pale sea. Somewhere in the distance there was pain, but it was dull, muted to the point of bearability. Other, less easily borne pains flickered through him. A deep abiding sadness that never really went away. Protections his mind had placed on itself, however – the little twists in personality that prevented the pain from becoming unbearable – shifted him away, using the dimness of his current state to blanket his battered ego and give him dreams to stave off the truth he could hardly stand to face.

In dreams, at least, he was loved.

---

_Well, if nothing else,_ Train thought, listening to the soft muttering, _I'm getting used to his feelings towards me. I don't feel nearly so much like running and screaming in terror._ He remembered the days of their partnership, when Creed's peculiar mannerisms – the inappropriate laughter and violent mood swings – had left Train more than a bit confused and unnerved. The only time the man had seemed able to control himself was when he was on a job and then he was all dangerous business, covering the sharp edges with a carefully controlled and almost frighteningly innocent courtesy.

In those days, ordered by his masters to do so, Train had had no choice but to work with Creed and had learned that the best way to deal with the oddities was either to ignore them or to treat them as a kind of childish joke. The first time he'd noogied Creed had stopped the insane laughter and replaced it with a peculiar look of stunned amazement. The same look that had overcome the madman that day in the gardens.

_I did it to myself, didn't I? At least, everything I did encouraged you._ Train shook his head, staring down at the tired and drawn face, feeling a odd sort of sadness for the man. It wasn't so much that he had gone out of his way to make friends, but a man as friendless as Creed apparently was must have taken even the general appearance as meaning much more than it ever had to Train.

_Hell. He as much as said so that day in the tower,_ Train thought. Creed's behavior hadn't been that of a man meeting with someone whom he'd simply respected and wanted as ally. It'd been the reaction of someone reunited with a long lost love. _I should have realized _then_ that something was up. He was so damned _happy_ to see me._ Train had a peculiar feeling in his stomach. A strange mix of pity and anger for someone as utterly messed up in the head as Creed obviously was. _No. Not just happy. Overjoyed. Like a puppy wagging his tail. And I kicked that puppy straight in the chest. The really scary part is he keeps coming back for more._

Creed's killing of Saya might never be something Train could forgive, but it was somehow more understandable. Something was deeply wrong in Creed's mind and it needed to be healed. _And if healing doesn't change how he feels towards you,_ he mocked himself, _what will you do then?_

_Handle it when the time comes. There's a long road ahead of him. Ahead of both of us, because there's no way he can get more than a few feet down the path without help. Someday he'll have to walk it on his own, but until then_ _I kicked the supports out from under him. It had to be done, but now I'm left with the wreck I created._ Train knew he wasn't much on responsibility but one thing he did understand. You didn't leave your target to go off and die slowly. You either killed it or you fixed what you did somehow. _Somehow._

Train wondered what Saya would say, if she knew what he was doing. If she knew how he was taking care of the man who killed her. Wondered and knew without doubt that she'd approve.

To Be Continued....


	7. Learning Experiences

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

LEARNING EXPERIENCES

_May 6, 2003 _

Train sat and watched Creed manipulate a rubber ball between the fingers of his newly regenerated hand, a look of pained concentration on the pale-haired man's face. "Looks like they work pretty" Train's words broke off as the ball suddenly slipped and went spinning off under the bed. The fingers were twisted in a way that didn't look at all natural – as if the bones within had simply given way. "Er Then again" Train knelt and got the ball out.

Creed slumped, rubbing at his left arm and wrist. "Like the waves on the sand" he muttered, then seemed to force himself to focus. "They don't want to hold their shape." He accepted the ball back from Train and glared at it. As it began to slip again, his fingers shifted – suddenly – to long sharp blades that sliced the toy into pieces. "DAMN!"

Train stared from scattered red rubber scraps to those bladed 'fingers'. "What the." He reached out, catching hold of the hand, setting aside startlement at what had just happened in favor of calming his frustrated companion. "Creed easy."

---

The hand beneath Train's was trembling and Creed felt well-remembered madness overwhelming him. He was starting to giggle softly, the laughter he knew disturbed and frightened those around him. Then he raised his eyes to Train's with a look of utter devastation and pulled his hand away sharply, the blades twisting into a tangled knot as he curled up into a ball around the hand – hiding it. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Get away don't let me hurt you. Please."

"You're not going to hurt me," Train said in a reassuring tone.

"Can't control it. Want to hurt something. Want to." Creed knew his voice was a pathetic little whimper that shifted into a scream torn from his depths. "Please. I WANT TO KILL SOMETHING!"

---

Train wasn't sure if his next action was complete idiocy or driven by instinctual knowledge of Creed's personality. He reached out, putting an arm around Creed's neck and rubbed his other fist in the fluffy white hair. "Don't we all?" he asked, and if his laughter was slightly forced, it – combined with the noogie – had the desired effect. _At least I know how to break him out of it,_ he thought. _And hopefully it's not going to create more problems for us later. _

Beneath Train's grip, Creed stiffened all the more, then suddenly relaxed against Train. The thin body was trembling, but the tension in the muscles had disappeared. Train was unsurprised at the way the madman's dark eyes turned to him with that look in them. Train still couldn't fully interpret the expression, but he knew it had a lot to do with Creed's obsession with him.

"I'm sorry." Creed's voice trembled with a mix of exhaustion and overpowering emotions.

"What's going on?" Train asked as Creed slid out of his grip and moved back to his seat. "How are you doing that?"

Creed lifted his new-formed hand and smiled wanly at what looked – once more – to be fingers. "I'm having a bit of trouble controlling the nano-machines. The ones forming my chest and heart aren't such a problem. They don't require conscious effort."

"The_ nano-machines_?" Train repeated, feeling a bit foolish as he did so. "Creed I thought they just repaired your arm"

"Well, they did. By replacing the bone and muscle and nerves with themselves. They're not as fast as the nano-machines Doctor was working on but they seem to be almost as reliable." Creed flexed his fingers. "Given, of course, I can control my thought processes better when I use them." He sighed, a sad, tired, sound. "I can't seem to do it. The elbow was so much easier."

Reaching out, Train touched the newly formed hand, then the other. "It feels perfectly human," he said softly. "Like" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Like Eve. And I have an idea. Wait here. Don't try and do anything. Just rest."

---

---

"Let me reiterate that I'm not happy with this idea," Sven said as the three Sweepers headed down the hallway to Creed's room. "I accept that you feel it's necessary to keep that loony tune from getting any more loony. I even accept your decision not to hand him over to the authorities, though I really don't agree. But having Eve tutor him that's just a bit too much, surely?" It had been over a year since Creed had tried to kill him in that church but the memory was still very clear. He shuddered at the way those eyes had looked at him, the mad eyes of a wild and rabid animal.

Eve cocked her head at Sven. "It sounds to me as if he is in desperate _need _of tutoring. His state of mind is such that – even if he didn't intend to do so – he could easily hurt someone."

"He doesn't have Eve's advantage of having been born with the nano-machines. She controls them as easily as breathing," Train added. "Without someone to guide him he's never going to be able to do anything but slice, dice and julienne fry whatever he picks up."

Glancing Train's way, Eve continued, "Do you think he forms blades for the same reason his _ki_ creates the Imagine Blade?" she wondered. "The one is tied to his state of mind, certainly." Sven had to wonder at her. He was very proud of the way she was growing up, but sometimes her cool, sensible reaction to things of high emotion left him non-plussed. _Still, at least it means she won't be afraid of him. I have a feeling it'd be a very bad idea to show fear to a man like Creed Diskence. _

A short sharp laugh escaped Train's lips as he opened the door. "Hey, Creed. Tell Eve just how many knives and swords you used to have," he said to the white-haired man standing at the window and staring out at the gardens below. To Sven, it was almost a shock to see the man. Still fragile from his recent illness, his short cropped hair and slow movement as he turned was surprisingly normal, as if he weren't the wildly insane madman Sven had first met. _Which is ridiculous. _

A startled look crossed Creed's face. "Oh that's a good idea," he said to Train, "I wondered why you rushed off so fast." He paused, seemed to think something over. "I lost count at three hundred. Why?"

---

The three Sweepers were frowning at Creed, apparently puzzled by his response, but it was Train who nodded first. "I think you may have something there, Eve," he told the girl, then looked back at Creed. "She was wondering if your Imagine Blade might take the form it does due to your, ahhh, interest in knives."

Creed smiled at the girl, forcing himself not to wince at Sven's so-called dress sense. The man had gone all out, today, dressing in a wrinkled beige suit with a tie that looked like it had been used as a napkin. _As for his hat. He looks like Kolchak the Nightstalker._ It occurred to Creed that if that were the case, Creed himself would be the vampire Sven was hunting_._ Somehow Creed forced himself back on track. "Doctor really would have loved talking to you," he said to Eve. "Such a bright little bird." He wondered why Sven was making that odd noise, but continued, "He thinks the Tao drug acts that way, yes. If the mind is able to accept the changes to it, the abilities seem to echo the personality of the recipient." He paused and frowned. "I'm not really sure _what_ that means about Sheldon, though."

"Actually," Eve corrected quietly, walking further into the room and very obviously and intentionally ignoring Sven's looming presence behind her, "I was wondering if your fingers became blades the way they did for the same reason you formed the Imagine Blade. Which I suppose does amount to the same thing."

Gesturing for his youngest guest to sit in the only chair, Creed nodded seriously. "That's a possibility I hadn't considered, but it makes perfect sense." He wondered if Eve's origin, nano-machine clone daughter to the scientist who'd created her, had anything to do with her quick intellect or if she'd merely inherited it from Dr. Tiayu. _I suppose it doesn't matter. She's growing up so quickly. I'd swear she's an inch or so taller than she was when Train brought me here. _

Train hopped up on Creed's bed, bouncing a bit. "Sven, stop hovering so obviously and let them talk. I don't think Eve's in any danger."

Blinking at Sven, Creed gave him the sweetest smile he was capable of. "Naturally not. I respect her abilities. I have no wish at all to do her any harm."

"Shyeah, right," Sven muttered. "The day I believe you wouldn't hurt any of us is the day I eat my hat."

"I wouldn't do that, Sven," Creed forced himself to answer lightly. "That thing causes indigestion just by looking at it. God knows what it would do if you actually _ate_ it."

---

Train dropped back on the bed and started giggling. While he didn't share Creed's distaste for Sven's dress-sense, he could understand it. Creed always _had_ been something of a clothes horse, after all. _Which makes his willingness to be stuck in a sanitarium in that outfit all the more impressive, I suppose._ "You are _not_ helping, Train," Sven growled in his direction.

"Leave him alone," Creed growled back. "Let him laugh if he wants to" His angry words halted as Train raised a brow at him and the white-haired man seemed to crumple. "I I'm sorry I didn't mean"

Train sighed. "Both of you cut it out. Sven, Eve will be fine. Creed, I don't need protection from Sven. He and I have been doing this sort of thing for a while now."

Sven started to growl something under his breath, then his eyes fell on Creed and he nodded. Train thought he knew why. The madman's whole posture was that of a reprimanded child. Somehow he thought it wouldn't be a bad thing for Sven to see a bit of what it was that was driving his decision to take care of Creed. Even now Sven thought he was crazy. _Which I probably am, but, still. _

---

Eve ignored the others in favor of reaching forward to take Creed's left hand, examining it with a critical eye. "They even repeat the scarring," she noted clinically. "At least I presume this is old?" She tapped a long thin scar that crossed Creed's palm.

"I got that a few years ag" Creed stopped and glanced at Train, guilt surging through him. The scar was from picking up the blade of his precious sword, Kotetsu, when he'd been about to finish Saya off. The guilt he felt wasn't for Saya's death, still, but for the pain he'd caused. _And, maybe, for not feeling the right guilt. _

"That night?" Train asked, and at Creed's shamefaced nod, sighed. "I see," he said softly. "You don't have to avoid talking about it entirely. We both know it happened and why," he added. "Anyway, Sven and I should probably go get something to drink in the cafeteria. It'll be easier for you to work if you're not distracted."

Sven's unpatched eye turned to look at Train with an expression of disbelief and Creed gave him another sweet smile. "I won't hurt her," he reassured the man, despite his dislike. "I need her help."

With a sigh, Train grabbed Sven's arm and pulled him, still protesting, out of the room.

---

Gazing at the white-haired man, Eve focused her thoughts, feeling the flow of nano-machines inside Creed's arm and body. Her ability to control those nano-machines that made up her own flesh made it easy to read the location of those inside the madman _I think I might even be able to control his as well. Though that's not a viable solution to his problem_. "Arm, chest, some in the brain," she noted, not quite realizing she was speaking aloud. "Quite a few, in fact." _Something else odd, too. Like listening to three different radio stations at once. _

"Beluga hit me with his cannon that day in the castle," Creed agreed, nodding. "The skull bones too, and some of the hair, which can be distracting."

"Do you feel the difference, then?"

"A little." A wan smile crossed Creed's face. "My brain doesn't function properly anyway. I have to fight with it to keep focus most of the time, so I'm used to feeling a bit strange."

Eve frowned, puzzled. "Doesn't function properly?" She paid more attention to what was going on in Creed's brain. Wild sudden arcs were forming between the neurons within. That was the odd static she'd picked up. Neurons firing in his thoughts in ways that seemed impossible to think through. Yet, somehow, by sheer force of will, he seemed to be doing so.

Creed raised one long finger to touch a spot on his forehead. "Brain damage," he said, and his voice held a moment of sharp anger. "Don't go into it. I've learned not to think about it. It tends to make me," he hesitated over the word, but continued, "violent."

"I see."

"I mean it," Creed said intensely, "It's _real_ damage"

Eve looked at him and saw a desperate look in his eyes. "I do believe you," she said reassuringly. _Considering what I'm reading from him, it'd be hard not to. _

Dark eyes blinked at Eve, as if their owner couldn't quite believe she meant what she said. At last, however, he continued, "I really don't want to hurt you. Please, if you think I might, go away quickly. You're too important to injure."

Eve frowned, confused at Creed considering her important, but decided that the thought would have to be examined later. Instead she put her hand on Creed's left wrist. "Try to make a fist," she murmured.

---

Creed watched his teacher with quiet puzzlement. Most people, like Sven, were unnerved by him. Train had always been an exception and now there was Eve. He appreciated the kindness, though, and he was being exceedingly careful to be on his best behavior with the girl. Her ready acceptance of his story helped, made him feel far less tense, far less insecure. So many people tried to say it had never happened. That it wasn't real.

As he obeyed the small girl's orders, moving his fingers in the ways she told him, her fingers pressed against his arm, he wondered what she was doing. Only the fact that the orders were getting more and more complicated distracted him, forcing him to focus. The difficulty he had in doing so made the task even more of a problem, for his mind kept wanting to slip off on those odd little tangents that he simply couldn't permit it to follow. _No matter how much it hurts._

"Now, put your pinky over the ring finger, the index finger over the middle and twiddle your thumb."

The false bones of his fingers twisted inelegantly as he tried, desperately, to hold them still and keep their shape throughout the manipulation. Angrily, he felt himself lash out through his hand, long blades shimmering into existence, then twisting into a tight little knot as he realized what he was about to do. He gave Eve a tired look. "I can't do it"

"I think you can. The prob"

Creed shook his head. "I barely manage to keep my brain in focus as it is. Keeping focus on my hand too it's more than I can handle" He fought back hysteria, biting at his lip in desperation.

"No," Eve said firmly, ruby eyes calm despite the danger she must have known herself to be in. "The problem is that you're trying _too_ hard. I felt it in the nano-machines. The orders you were sending down were too intense, too desperate."

"I don't understand."

"Never mind that your hand is made of nano-machines. It's still your hand. The nerves, the flesh, the muscles. Everything is exactly the same as the hand you used to have, just formed from a different, more malleable substance. So the only time you really would have to _force_ them to behave in a certain way is when you're trying to do something that a human hand couldn't do. Like this" Eve lifted her own hand and extruded a small, strangely shaped hammer with which she – very lightly – tapped the top of Creed's head. "That," she added, "is my Clue Hammer. I use it on Train when he gets out of hand. I'll use it on you also, if necessary. But right now, what I want you to do is _not_ concentrate. Here. Catch."

Automatically, still a bit distracted by Eve's light little 'love'-tap, Creed caught the rubber ball Eve tossed him, hand closing over it without even thinking.

"Let's practice," Eve said. "I'll tell you to do something with that hand and you do it, without bothering to think of what needs to go where. Okay?"

Slowly, with dawning understanding, Creed nodded.

---

---

"Y'know. I think I understand why you're doing this." Sven eyed his partner, who was leaning back in his seat and chugging his milk. _Without a care in the world. Never mind Eve is upstairs with a man we have every reason to fear. As long as _he_ has his milk the world is a good place._

"Oh?" Train gave Sven a curious, almost amused look from under his spiky bangs, the aggravating expression he would get when he was keeping his feelings to himself. "How so?"

With a shrug, Sven took a swig of coffee and winced. Cafeteria coffee or dishwater, he couldn't be sure which was worse. "Simple. It's that thing you have about taking care of women and kids." As one of Train's brows shot up, Sven elaborated. "He looks like a guy – well sort of – but he damned well _acts_ like a teenage girl."

A choked laugh escaped the Black Cat's lips. "And I suppose you know what a teenage girl is like?"

"Of course. I have younger sisters. They were like that. All emotion and nerves. When they got a crush on someone the world would end if that person ignored them. And God help anyone who dissed their crush of the moment."

There was a long silence as Train stared at Sven and the Sweeper continued finally, "C'mon. Do you really think he has a clue what he means when he says he's in love with you?"

At last, eyes thoughtful, Train sighed. "Maybe. Maybe not. So you think he'll drop the crush after a while?"

"My big sister still has a crush on David Bowie, and she's married with children," Sven answered. "It may be hopeless." He leaned back in his chair, pushing the coffee away discontentedly. "There's a lot wrong in that guy's head, Train. You _do_ realize that you're stuck with him? Probably for the rest of his life?" He remembered the childish little smile Creed had given them when he'd tried to reassure them of Eve's safety and shuddered.

Train gazed off into the gardens outside the window. "Maybe. Yeah, probably. I walk away now, he'll shatter entirely. I can't do it, Sven. I don't know why he's so messed up, but the only other solution is to kill him. Do you really think I should do that? He'd let me, if I wanted to."

The only thing Sven could do was wince and acknowledge that Train was right. "In any case, I don't want to leave them alone too long. Let's go back now and see how they're doing."

---

---

Sven and Train peeked in through the doorway, watching Creed as he worked a ball between his fingers, reading a poem out of his book to Eve. "Twas brillig and the slithy toves" he murmured, "did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogroves, and the momeraths outgrabe."

"There," Eve said when he finished. "You see my point? Once you're distracted from thinking about what your hand is supposed to be doing, controlling it is a lot easier."

Creed nodded, and Train noted the serious expression on the thin, pale, face with a smile. He'd been right. Eve might not understand Creed, but she could work with him. They both had their issues with life and perhaps that provided a link that helped the two come to some sort of comprehension.

"We'll keep working on that until it's first nature," Eve continued. "Then we'll see what we can do about having you change their shape deliberately."

"Is that a good idea?" Sven demanded, stepping in, looking nervously at Creed, distrust clear in voice and attitude.

"Of course it is," Eve answered, nodding firmly. "If he doesn't know how to control the shifts when they occur he won't be able to get back to normal easily."

"Well," Creed corrected wryly, "As normal as I'm capable of." Sven's eyes widened slightly and he snorted, clearly despite himself.

Train grinned, leaning against the doorjamb, as pleased as if he'd pulled off the trick of teaching Creed himself. _Another step down the road to recovery,_ he thought. _Even if I'm never really rid of him, he's getting better._

To Be Continued


	8. Intermezzo: Chronos

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: CHRONOS

_May 15, 2003 _

The throne room was always chilly, so cold that sometimes Sephiria wondered if her masters carried their own personal heaters under their robes. She always was careful, however, never to let that thought be expressed, as careful as she was never to let anything she thought be seen by the three elderly men who were the true Lords of Chronos, not to mention one third of the world. She respected them, did not love them and recognized the danger only too well.

_Danger. Such as right now._ One did not fail one's Lords casually. "I am deeply sorry, my Lords," she said quietly, kneeling before them, her long blonde hair hanging around her face. "Though we have searched everywhere, it seems that the Hoshi No Shito have gone to ground in such a way that we cannot find them. Our one clue disappeared last year and – since then – there has been no sign."

"And Number Ten's explanation?"

"One of the Hoshi has the power to teleport," Sephiria murmured, remembering their ultimately futile attack on the Hoshi's last known hide-out and Xiao Li's chagrin when they realized that their quarry had disappeared. "We believe she must have taken them all away. There were signs of illness, though, one of their number – Creed himself, perhaps – may have been unwell. It's possible they are waiting for him to recover. He _did_ lose an arm after all." She glanced upwards at the three men, their faces enshadowed and somehow inhuman, like some ancient and aged elves, and wondered how they would react.

"Hmmm." The Eldest put a hand to his long white beard, stroking it thoughtfully. "Yes, we have read your report and that of the ones you brought with you. The Sweeper party you sent ahead as a distraction found nothing either."

Sephiria nodded in agreement, but said nothing, waiting for her Masters' decision. At last the Eldest spoke. "Very well. With nothing to show where they might be, it makes no sense to borrow trouble. Have all our people be on watch, however. The Hoshi No Shito and their cursed Tao must be erased from this world."

"I obey, Masters." Sephiria looked up at the three men and bowed. "There is one other thing. I wish to examine the records of the man who trained Creed Diskence. It may be we can find a clue as to his current location."

"All training records are yours whenever you wish to view them, Number One. Why do you ask us?" The Second Elder frowned down at Sephiria, obviously puzzled, his bushy black eyebrows drawn together.

"Sir, you may recall that when Creed left us he did so quite violently. Aisu – the previous Number 10 – wasn't the only one he killed during his escape. Professor Drake was another." Sephiria remembered watching the video of that particular killing. Drake, apparently certain of his control on Creed, had approached the man, using whatever code word he'd instilled in Creed's sub-conscious to force him to stop. Except it hadn't worked, and Creed had very happily broken Drake's neck. "Most of the Professor's records were easily read, but we have discovered some, since then, that were encoded in a way that we have not yet deciphered."

A look of understanding crossed the Third Elder's face. "I see. You need a technician capable of decoding those records. Very well. I shall see to it that someone is found to assist you in the matter."

"In the meantime, Number One, I expect that you have other things that need your attention." The Eldest gestured for her to rise. "We wish you luck."

Leaving the great chamber, Sephiria rubbed ruefully at the roman numeral 1 tattooed on her forehead. Leading Chronos' elite enforcers sometimes seemed to be nothing but one long headache. _Where are you, Creed Diskence, and what the _hell_ is going on in your screwed up little brain?_

To Be Continued.


	9. The Mind Follows the Body

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE MIND FOLLOWS THE BODY

_June 17, 2003 _

To say that Doctor Ivan Jones was a worried man would have been an understatement. If anyone was to blame, however, he knew perfectly well it was himself. After all, had he been sensible about the situation he would have contacted the authorities as soon as he'd realized the man Train Heartnet had handed over to him was Creed Diskence.

It would have been easier to do if Creed had posed an obvious threat. Oh, he knew as well as anyone what the former terrorist leader had done. The Hoshi No Shito had caused immense destruction in their attack on the World Economic Conference a year or so back, killed hundreds of innocents and destroying acres of property. Yet the man was so obviously dying, wasting away from sadness, too trapped by his obsession and his need and his loneliness to break free. Jones had, quite honestly, expected him to fade away to nothing.

Except Train had been convinced to help, resulting in a situation that both frightened and elated Jones. His techniques, new and barely proven, had a chance to do some real good. Yet a mistake could prove disastrous and he was determined to take each step towards curing Creed Diskence cautiously.

Watching the pale haired figure running across the playing field, dodging his fellow patients and heading for the soccer ball being kicked by one of the nurses, Jones smiled. For all his insanity, Creed had the physical reflexes and tone of an Olympic athlete. He twisted around, dove and rolled, coming up into position with a kick that carried the ball high into the air. The arc was perfect, graceful and smooth, but it ended on the sanitarium roof, three stories up.

A groan of disappointment rose and Creed looked deeply embarrassed. "Sorry!" he gasped and ran at the building. "I'll get it!" Before anyone could respond he was leaping high, soaring. Jones gasped, heart suddenly in his throat, as the slim form landed lightly atop the roof and ran towards the area where the ball had become stuck.

Behind Jones, his chief assistant choked. "Dear GOD! Did he just do what I think he just did?"

"Cray was a member of an elite military unit before he came here." Jones forced his voice to stay casual, no easy thing at that moment. "It seems his old skills are returning to him." It was, he thought, a very lucky thing that Creed was at the asylum of his own free will. There'd be no holding him if he chose to leave now.

"Heh." The voice behind Jones was Train Heartnet's and Jones turned with relief. "Something like that, yeah." The dark haired young man looked up at the roof with an expression of mild amusement. "Want me to get him down?"

"Is he safe enough?" Jones couldn't help asking. Admittedly it would permanently solve the problem Creed Diskence posed if he broke his foolish young neck but Jones refused to consider that a reasonable alternative.

Train shrugged. "He can get down okay. Still." He leaped up the same way Creed had, landing with equal lightness and Jones shook his head, reflecting that this was not the sort of thing his training had prepared him for.

Turning to his staff, he gestured for them to get their patients settled down. _It seems, though, that Creed is physically as healthy as he can be. Which means it's definitely time to do something about his mind._ He'd begin that very evening, after Train had left, when Creed was at his quietest and most content.

---

---

"Do you feel up to trying some therapy?"

Creed glanced up at Dr. Jones and somehow managed a wan little smile. "Th that's what I'm here for, isn't it?" To say he was scared would be putting things far too mildly. Therapy could mean so many things and while the doctor's methods had – so far – consisted mainly of talking, Creed knew only too well what the other possibilities were. _Besides, _does_ getting well mean I stop loving Train?_ He wanted to please his love, but not at the expense of losing the one thing left that made him feel like he might have some value.

Jones moved to sit across from Creed, watching the massive puzzle that was taking shape in front of him. "You don't need the lid?"

The question left Creed puzzled. "Why should I?" The image of the puzzle was in his head, easy to match with the tangled threads of patterns in front of him. Picking up a lone piece, he examined it against that mental image for a minute or so, then carefully lay it down somewhere towards the center, in an empty area. "Does the question have something to do with my rehabilitation, Doctor?"

Silent for a moment, the doctor gazed at the table, brows drawn together. "In a way. I'm noting that you have an exceptional visual memory."

"Visual, audial, tactile olfactory." Creed shrugged. "I can quote Shakespeare verbatim, Dr. Jones. Would you like me to prove it? It's very easy for me to do. Not so easy for me to stop, though."

With a small chuckle, Jones shook his head. "I'll believe you. It's intriguing, though. That level of memory is rare."

Another shrug followed as Creed reached out and connected two pieces at the other end of the table. "Compensation, perhaps." He paused, glancing sideways at Jones and added, testingly, "For the brain damage." His keepers at Chronos, and their predecessors at St. Jude's had all refused to believe him when he mentioned what had been done to him. Even Doctor had only pretended he was right. After a while he'd just stopped arguing. _But not arguing doesn't change what happened._

A hand reached out and touched Creed's shoulder. "Cray? Brain damage? The area the nano-machines repaired?"

It was an incredible effort for Creed not to react, not to allow the fury and anger that he kept bottled up inside to simply explode on contact. Jones' expression said that he could see the danger he was in; it held fear, mixed with determination. "I know this upsets you," the man said quietly. "I understand that you're putting everything you have into not attacking me. If you would like to be left alone now I'll go."

Somehow, Creed managed to shake his head. "GOD. I only _wish_ the nano-machines would repair it." He bit at his lip, drawing blood. Without the nano-machines to heal him he would have bitten it through in his rage. "Just once I'd like to be able to think clearly, _focusedly_, without every thought being a constant struggle. But they can't fix it." He sobbed suddenly, muscles tense and aching. His hand went to his forehead. "Too old. Long since healed. They can't do a thing for it."

Jones gazed at him with a confused expression. "I don't understand."

"They stirred my brains with an ice pick! Is _that_ clear enough for you?" Creed growled angrily, sweeping the puzzle away onto the floor. "Though I suppose you don't believe that anymore than anyone else ever has!"

There was a long silence as Jones watched Creed. Under any other circumstances, without Train's orders to keep him under control, Creed knew he would have killed the man then and there, just out of frustration and fury. But then, that was why Train had given him that order. _Please. Somehow. I have to hold on!_

---

As Creed slowly managed to work himself back down from what was obviously towering rage, Jones said quietly. "Are you saying someone gave you a lobotomy?"

Creed took a deep breath. "That's what they call it," he agreed, voice under immense control.

Jones shook his head, troubled and frightened. Astonishingly, though, it wasn't Creed that was scaring him, but the idea that his patient had been deliberately damaged. _It can't be that. Not something that terrible._ There were still those, old school, therapists who insisted the procedure had done some good, but he couldn't believe even _they_ would make such an attempt. "Lobotomies," Jones said finally, "haven't been done for decades are a proscribed treatment. I cannot I don't want to believe that someone would have given you one. How old were you?"

A shrug. "I don't remember." Creed's eyes flared for a moment with suppressed violence and Jones had to admit that he was impressed with the strength of will that kept the man from allowing his anger to turn to destruction. Then, for the briefest of moments, a lost child looked out of those dark eyes. "I'm 24 now, I think. 21 when I was Train's partner. Six years before I started training."

"The people who trained you did it?" Jones hoped the answer would be yes. He could believe that, accept that people cruel enough to create an elite assassin corps would use a method like lobotomy to control their tools.

"No. There was a hospital. Like this one, but much worse." Creed trembled, muttering softly under his breath. "Afraid blurred and confused days... Pain and loneliness and utter emptiness... A useless life, kept drugged out of my tiny little mind. _GARBAGE._ " He straightened, spoke more assuredly. "Not sure how long I was there. A long time, though. Too long. Sometimes I escaped but they always got me back." His voice trembled and a tear trickled down his cheek.

Jones rose to his feet. "It's possible you received a treatment that you interpreted as a lobotomy." He paced. "That has to be it. No reputable hospital would do something like that." He looked at Creed, seeing the pain and agonized by it. "Cray, would you permit me to take you to a special hospital for tests? Determine if what you believe to be true has a basis in reality?"

"Why? You don't believe me."

Shaking his head, Jones smiled wryly. "I don't believe you were lobotomized. For one thing, you don't _act_ like a typical lobotomy patient." At Creed's startled expression, Jones added, "Lobotomies were used to calm patients down. You're not a calm man by any means." Before Creed could continue his bewildered question, Jones continued, "On the other hand, if you believe there is brain damage then it seems to me that we need to know why. It may be real or it may be part of your personal mythology. We should find out which."

"And what then?"

"If there's nothing, we work on determining a way to help you come to terms with the belief." The doctor gave Creed a searching look. "More importantly, though, if there _is_ damage that you're working around, that your training allows you to fight by keeping you constantly belligerent, then it may be possible to determine an alternative."

Slowly, Creed nodded in agreement.

---

---__

_July 22, 2003 _

Train stared in utter shock and dismay at the figure curled up in the corner of the padded cell, arms and upper torso restrained in a strait-jacket. "Creed?" He stepped forward, only to stop when the dark eyes raised to meet his. Lost, frightened, eyes that had never so resembled pits of hell as they did now. _What the hell? He was getting better. What happened?_

"Go go away please. Don't come back Oh please don't" Creed's voice was terrified. "I'll hurt you. I'll end up hurting you."

"Don't be ridiculous Creed," Train protested. "You know I can't do that. You won't hurt me."

"Yes yes I will. I won't want to. I won't mean to. But I will. I will. Can't control it anymore. Can't You have to go and never come back." Hysterical, Creed twisted in his strait-jacket and started to cry. "I'll hurt someone you love. Then you'll have to kill me. Please. Go."

"Creed, I go away and you'll go right back to where you were when I started coming. You'll end up dying! You don't think I want that?"

A wan little smile crossed Creed's face. "No Know you don't. I'll be all right. Write me They'll read it. I'll stay here. Be a good boy. They'll have to sedate me Time for next dose now Please I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!"

Train shook his head. "What is going _on_ here. You were getting better. You were getting well."

Laughing frenziedly, Creed shuddered violently. "Never get better. Never _can_ get any better. Some things can't be fixed. Can't be helped. Please Just go"

"Mr. Heartnet," the voice was that of disapproving nurses everywhere. "Dr. Jones was expecting you to come see him first." Train looked behind him to find a young woman giving him the evil eye. "Instead of disturbing our patient this way." She turned to Creed. "Mr. Dickens, it's time for your next dose."

Creed nodded vociferously. "Yes yes please. Give it Right arm Right arm" As the nurse walked cautiously towards him, a hypodermic in her hand, he seemed – by an effort of will – to be forcing himself to hold still, eyes closed, tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He barely jerked as the needle entered his arm. A minute later he slumped and leaned against the wall, mumbling softly to himself.

"Now then, Mr. Heartnet, if you'd go and see Dr. Jones?" The nurse's tone brooked no argument and Train turned to go, pausing only long enough to stare, deeply troubled, at the crumpled figure across from him.

---

---

"I'm really sorry about this." Dr. Jones handed Train a bottle of milk. He smiled wryly as he sat down. "It isn't nearly as bad as it looks, but it _is_ pretty bad." He felt terrible about the whole thing, had simply not expected Creed to take his suggestions so badly. _Confused, too. I would have thought he'd understand what I was suggesting. _

"Not nearly as bad as it looks." Train shook his head angrily. "What the hell happened?"

A sigh escaped the doctor's lips. "It's my fault. He's so smart and quick that I gave him more credit for understanding than I ought to have. I should have realized he'd take it the way he did."

Train just looked at him obviously waiting for explanation. Jones turned to his computer, searching for a file. "It starts here," he said finally, hitting a button. "It'll take a minute for the software to come up."

"Doctor I don't understand any of this sort of thing." Jones ignored Train's protest as he finished pulling up an image of a human brain. "What's that?" Jones glanced the young man's way and saw honest confusion in Train's eyes. Bemused at Train's ignorance he sighed.

"A normal human brain." Jones pressed a button. "Here's what it looks like when you map the electrical patterns." Small patterns of light flickered over the lump and, after another button press, the patterns showed inside a framework of lines that replaced the brain image. "I took Cray to a special hospital last month, one that does brain imaging. It took hours of examination, but here."

Another brain image formed on the screen. At first it seemed pretty much the same as the normal one, but then it turned to show a view of what seemed like an explosion of energy. "This would be an area of brain that was damaged fairly recently – after he received the nano-machines that repair his body. Examination of his left arm reveals a similar pattern."

"Yeah, he said something once about Beluga giving him a good sharp blow to the head," Train said. "Are the nano-machines not working right? The electrical impulses causing him problems?"

"No. They're working just fine. In fact, I'd say the repaired areas are operating better than they ever did before." The doctor pointed at the brilliantly colored patterns. _Those nano-machines would be a boon if it weren't for the problems they create._ He could understand why Creed's associate had been working on them, even if he descried their use on a human subject so soon in their development.

"Then what's the problem? Is he afraid he'll get well and have to leave?" Jones shook his head at Train's question and the Sweeper frowned. "Well?"

"Here." Jones pressed that key again, revealing the interior of the slowly spinning brain and Train stared at the image, expression blank. Jones followed his gaze, wincing at what it showed. The patterns were clearly leaving whole segments in the front of the brain completely blank. "He claims the damage was caused by a frontal lobotomy or something. More likely he was injured at some time in the past – I'd say around ten years ago – and that injury is one of the major causes of his problems. His conviction that the damage was caused deliberately may be a symptom of the injury." _Please, please PLEASE God. Let that be all it is. _

Train nodded slowly. "So you're saying that at least some of his behavior is caused by this damage? But if it's like a lobotomy then surely the results aren't right I don't know much about that sort of thing, but I thought lobotomies turned their victims into pliant vegetables – something Creed definitely isn't." It occurred to Jones that, despite efforts to pretend otherwise, there was a very quick mind beneath the apparently foolish behavior.

"I _should _ say a botched frontal lobotomy. I don't want to believe it, frankly. It'd take a total lack of ethics for someone to perform that useless surgery, especially a child." Jones paused, troubled. "If I feel doubts, some fear that he may be right, it's that while there is obvious damage to his brain there is no sign of any to his skull. Just some scar tissue in his sinus cavity. I don't know how else it could have happened." With a sigh, Jones shook off the thought. He didn't want it to be true and even if it was, it didn't change what he had to deal with. "In any case, the problem is that the damage has resulted in certain aspects of a lobotomy. Specifically, poor impulse control and the inability to comprehend social cues."

---

"Gee. Tell me something I haven't noticed," Train muttered. "Okay. So what can be done? Why haven't the nano-machines fixed the damage?"

"They can't. They're limited to repairing damage incurred at the time of their injection or after. _Not_ already healed injuries. You know both his palms are scarred?"

"I know about the left one. Is there a scar on his right hand too?"

Nodding, the doctor held his right hand so that the nails of his fingers touched the palm. "Four crescent shaped marks. He tells me that he'd seen you with someone and had been so enraged that he'd clenched his fist so hard his fingernails cut the palm."

Train winced. 'Someone' had to be Saya. _And you knew he was mad about it. Why else would he kill her?_ "So that's his problem. He's realized he can't ever be well."

"Exactly. He understood what I was saying about that, but not the rest."

Shaking his head, Train frowned. "I'm afraid _I_ don't understand either. If his problems stem from his brain damage then what can be done? I mean, you can't fix damage like that, can you? And if the nano-machines won't help." A sharp pang of pity hit him. _He'll never be able to be free, will he?_

Turning away from the computer, Jones nodded. "You're right that the damage can't be repaired. But there are techniques for getting around some of the problem. He can't ever be normal, true, but he can be far less dangerous than he is now. He can operate on a somewhat different level."

"What's involved?"

Jones looked consideringly at Train. "The first thing is a backward step."

"Huh?"

"Your former employers made him capable of operating in society. Of – in general – covering up his personality defects. They used hypnotism to force him to forget much of his past and repetitive training to force him to behave according to certain standards. The combination left his subconscious mind deeply troubled but entirely unable to deal with the pain. The result was a kind of homicidal mania. Of course, it seems to me that they probably were hoping for a certain level of sociopathy. A killer with a conscience isn't exactly desirable in your former line of work, is it?"

A sharp anguished laugh escaped Train's lips. "Yeah. Damn right it isn't. Part of the reason I left them."

"Indeed. You left for ethical or moral reasons. He left because you left." At Train's raised brow, Jones continued, "Cray tells me that you were the idol held up to him during training. The perfect, heartless, killer. The one to emulate. So when you left, he left."

Train suspected there might be more to the story than that, considering what little he'd been told about Creed's departure from Chronos. A one man disaster area wasn't nearly an adequate description. Creed had left at least one Chronos Number dead and others badly injured when he'd exited the compound. _Not to mention the rank and file that got in his way_. Still, it made sense that Creed had made that departure when he'd found out that Train wasn't with Chronos anymore. "Okay. So how does that help him?"

"Prior to his training Cray wasn't homicidal, wasn't even violent, except under very specific circumstances. He can't remember what those circumstances were, but he does recall that he had killed at least two people when he was very young. He'd been kept in an asylum for years, locked up without any sort of help, under sedation. Solitary confinement, in fact." Jones shuddered suddenly. "He's mentioned other therapies, ones that I had hoped were long since out of use. They didn't help."

"So he goes insane to regain his sanity? Is that what you're saying?" Train tried to puzzle that out and failed.

The doctor sighed. "No. It wouldn't be an optimal solution to keep him that way. I'd like to get him back to that state, then work on redirecting him along another path. Possibly slowly help him remember what he was made to forget – though we will need to be careful about that. The problem then is that he will be very much like a child in need of guidance. He'll need someone to show him how to behave and how to be aware of other people's reactions. He will probably _never_ be fully competent, but I think he has a chance of being reasonably capable of operating on a basic level. He might even be able to move to outpatient status, if he gets far enough. It needs someone he'll listen to, of course, but fortunately, we have that someone in you. I'd do it myself, but since he already regards you in the light of a big brother, you'd be a much better candidate."

A thought suddenly hit Train. "Doctor, I think he may have understood far more than you thought." At Jones' raised brow, Train continued, "Think about it. He needs a keeper and you think I'm the one to do it. Whether or not I want to."

Jones' eyes widened. "Oh for Of course. And now he's frightened that – once I propose the idea to you – you'd be unwilling to continue." He gave Train a concerned look. "And perhaps I did assume too much in thinking you'd want to go so far?"

Laughing suddenly, Train covered his face with his hand. "Oh man. I was figuring on being stuck with him for the rest of my life anyway. If you'd asked me two months ago I probably would have screamed and run away." He sighed. "The trouble is, I can't. He's messed up. None of that's my fault, except I took a completely screwed up mess and I screwed it up even more. I hurt him so badly that he's scared to take a step without being absolutely certain it's the right one. That _is_ my fault."

"There is nothing that says that anyone has to take responsibility for someone else, Train," Jones said quietly. "It always has to be a chosen path, one best made with your eyes wide open. I should have made sure you were willing before I even suggested this to him. I assumed it, considering how much time you've spent helping Creed so far."

A wry smile crossed Train's face. "Doctor, I've spent almost half a year on him. It'd be ridiculous to give up now. Especially if there might, just might, be some sort of solution for him. Maybe you're right that he'll always need me as a sort of guide. But that's better than leaving him in a padded cell in a straitjacket, surely?" He got to his feet. "I'll go talk to him."

---

---

Creed gazed silently at Train as he finished talking, finished telling his unwanted responsibility that he understood what the problem was and that he had no intention of wandering off with his job barely begun. "I took this on, Creed. I don't like giving up on things mid-way through. You were afraid I'd run, once I realized what helping you was going to mean. Well I'm not – so you can stop trying to drive me away."

"There are two problems," Creed answered dreamily. One of the nice aspects to being drugged out of his tiny little mind. The emotional part of him was held at bay, leaving his intellect free to consider matters without being tossed on the hurricane. "First you have no idea what I was like before my training. How do you know you're going to want anything to do with something even _more_ lunatic than I am now?"

As Train raised a brow, Creed continued. "Second do you think the doctor is right and all I want and need from you is a big brother?" He lay his head back against the wall, comforted by the feel of his arms wrapped tight around himself and by the fact that none of his weaponry could be accessed because of the drug. "It goes further than that."

"I know," Train agreed. "He doesn't have to understand it, though, to help you." He smiled at Creed's surprise, "That kiss, remember? A man doesn't kiss their big brother that way."

Emotion tried to push its way past the drugs and Creed felt a tear slide down his cheek. "No," he whispered. "I suppose not."

"I know you want more from me than I can possibly give you. I'm okay with it. A bit uncomfortable, but okay with it. You aren't going to drive me off that way, either. As for the first problem" Train hesitated. "You weren't homicidal – in general."

"I killed two people."

"Do you remember who? Or why?"

Creed shook his head. Their faces were embedded in his mind. The man, startled and too surprised to be afraid. The woman backing away from him. A pick in his hand. He suddenly realized he was humming something to the tune of 'Lizzie Borden'. "No And I don't think it's a good idea to push it Not yet. Maybe not ever. Some cesspools shouldn't be stirred." He trembled.

"Okay." Train gave him a considering look. "So if you turn homicidal for different reasons, will that be much different than the way you are now? I mean you don't hurt anyone because I don't want you to. Is that likely to change if you let yourself go back to thinking – pretty much – the way you used to? You said you'd never stop feeling the way you do about me, right?"

Struggling for a thought, for explanation, seemed impossible. How in the world was he to describe what he was like if he wasn't actively working against it? How to make Train understand how utterly peculiar he was likely to be, when he only barely understood what was peculiar and what was normal?

"Why are you fighting me on this? Don't you trust me?"

"I trust _you_," Creed sighed. "I don't trust me. I don't trust my decisions. It's safe here. Safe and protected and I don't have to worry about the worst happening anymore because it already has." The confession made Train's expression shift to sudden comprehension and he smiled a little. "But it's also damned dull. Go ask Alice."

"Huh?"

"When she's ten feet tall Oh sorry," Creed quirked his lips. "That's what you have to look forward to. They told me I had to stop doing that. I really do try but these drugs Make it so hard."

Sudden light dawned in Train's eyes. "I think I understand." Then he frowned. "To look forward to. You'll do that more?"

"All the time." Creed sighed, dropping his head onto his knees. "Going to be completely out of it before it's over Don't mind really. Hurts to stay focused. So much easier to drift." It wasn't the complete truth. Thinking clearly needed anger and hatred and fear to achieve, but such things could be addictive – especially when they resulted in clarity of thought. _He doesn't know what I'll be sacrificing_ Belatedly he realized he'd spoken aloud.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into those amber eyes. "Creed," Train said gently. "If drifting helps you find a better path than the one you're on, then maybe the sacrifice is worth it. Trust me. I'll tie a string on you and keep you from going into the stratosphere, if you'll let me."

Creed smiled up at his beloved. _He's worth it. If I'm ready to die for him, how can I not be ready to give up what mind I have left? _"You've always been my ballast. You didn't ask to be, though. So don't be surprised if I'm scared you'll let go again."

Train paused. "Again?" Then he sighed. "Yeah, I guess that's how it felt to you. Okay. I won't be surprised. But I won't let go, either. It's for the duration, Creed. As long as it takes."

Creed smiled wanly and tried not to think what would happen when Train regretted that decision.

To Be Continued....


	10. Scenes from a Garden

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

SCENES FROM A GARDEN

_August 5, 2003 _

"CREED! DON'T!" Train raced at the slender figure standing so terribly close to the cliff-side and caught him around the waist, dragging him back from the edge. The next thing he knew they were tumbling down a hole, landing at the bottom with a painful thump. "What the." Amid dust and dirt, he found himself staring down at huge dark eyes wide with surprise.

"Hello, sailor," Creed's voice held a world of puzzlement, as well as – strangely – a kind of seductive purr that startled Train into jerking backwards. "Why don't you come down and see me sometime?"

Train disentangled himself from his companion as much as was possible considering there wasn't much room to do so. "What?!"

Joyful expression crumpling to fear, Creed looked back at Train and seemed to be struggling to find something to say. "Watch that first step?"

_Stay calm, Train. He's acting weird but he warned you he was going to._ Train took a deep breath. "_Were_ you going to jump?" Creed had been standing so very close to the edge that it had seemed the only explanation.

"I don't have the wings of an angel," Creed answered in protest, eyes quieting as Train seemed less ready to explode. Then, with obvious and terrible effort, he added, "Did you think I was going to?"

"Yeah. Hold still, would you?" Train began working himself free of those tangled legs and arms, noting that Creed had put on a bit of weight in the last few months. He wasn't at all hefty, but there was real muscle there. "Been working out?"

"No sand in my face now," Creed agreed, sliding himself sideways and waiting until Train had jumped out of the hole to follow suit, shaking his head rapidly to scatter dirt from his hair and face.

Train puzzled that one out quickly as he dodged the shower. "Not a 90 pound weakling anymore. Okay, I get it." He was beginning to understand what it was that had worried Creed about returning to his old thought processes – since what was apparently going on in that mind wasn't something that could be considered thought. _No. That's not right. He's thinking, he's just using media references to communicate those thoughts._ This could become difficult, but from the peaceful expression on Creed's face, he thought it really was better than the way Creed _had_ been.

---

Creed searched his beloved's face as Train eyed him, searching for anger, irritation, anything that might show that Train was no longer willing to put up with his vagaries. Relief flooded him when he found nothing but puzzled amusement. _Doctor Jones was right. He doesn't mind_. "Hast thou slain the jabberwock?"

"Eh?" Train frowned and Creed stiffened, suddenly afraid and wondering what he should say or do. "Oh, wait a minute. Mission accomplished, you mean? Yep. Sven's pissed at me for blowing up a few too many things, but we got our man. Sorry it took so long, though, since I had to miss some visits."

With a nod, Creed brushed more dirt off himself, thought processes moving on, or rather backwards. "It was a dark and stormy night," he told Train, pointing down the cliff-side. "Tree fell down and went _boom_."

More blinking resulted. "Y'know," Train said as he stepped to Creed's side, glanced down at the big old tree that had been uprooted the night before by the storm. It lay shattered by the rocks some fifty feet below, the waves crashing over the broken wood and carrying leaves and bits of bark away in the swirl of browns and greens that had had his attention when Train had arrived. "I sort of wish you had a little marquee up here." He tapped Creed on the forehead. "One that tells people what subject you've jumped to."

Creed gave him a little smile and shrugged. There wasn't really any way to do that, so commenting seemed pointless. "Got milk?"

"Not yet. Let's go back to the cafeteria and you can tell me what you've been up to in the last few weeks."

---

Walking up the pathway with Creed, Train watched his companion. He hadn't been to see Creed in three weeks and the change was all the more marked because of it. _He's been changing ever since he came here, really. But I never really saw how different he is from the Creed I knew as my partner. How different from the Creed who led the Hoshi._ That Creed had been harder featured, as if there was some incredible force of will behind the face that held the man to his ill-fated courses. He'd sneered, put on superior, confident, expressions that Train was beginning to think might have all been part of an elaborate mask.

Train had already realized that beneath that mask was something confused and bewildered by the world. Here, though, the man seemed contented, drifting in a unfocused daze that might well have been Creed's natural state. The faint, sweet, little smile on his face had a child-like sense of wonder to it that revealed far more than Train thought the old Creed would have wanted known. Even his gait had changed, loosened up, as if some deep tension had eased.

"I see what you mean about stormy," Train said finally as they passed through an area of forest with broken branches piled to the side of the path. "Doctor Jones tells me you've been helping out."

"God's in his heaven," Creed answered in an agreeable tone. "All's right with the world."

"Is it? I hope so. You look a lot happier than you used to," Train paused. "So what _were_ you doing back there? Aside from scaring me out of several years growth?"

Creed smiled. "Digging a hole to China."

"To China"

"Getting to the root of the matter?" Creed tried again, paused and added, "To clear them out for the new tree?" His frown told Train that the effort to speak clearly wasn't at all easy for him.

Train was puzzled. "But I didn't see a shovel."

With a little shrug, Creed held his right hand in front of himself and made a flicking gesture that was quickly followed by a tree branch falling in front of them. "Just running away with me. My imagination, that is." A faint odd feeling brushed through Train, a soft vibration that trembled through the air.

Train nearly choked and quickly forced back his first reaction as Creed looked scared again. "Imagine Blade. But I thought you needed the hilt for that?"

A little nervous smile crossed Creed's worried features. "It's all in my head," he pointed out and Train gazed at him, not at all sure how to take the situation. Creed's left hand's abilities were dangerous enough. For him to still be able to access the Imagine Blade, with all the power that involved, was worrisome. Seeing unhappiness and fear in his companion's dark eyes, he sighed. "Just keep it under control. And don't let anyone know about it."

"Okay." Creed opened his hand and dropped it to his side, the faint buzz disappearing as he dissipated the Tao born mind blade. "I just couldn't dig deeper without it."

Train walked on, shaking his head as he remembered the hole. Six feet down at least and two-thirds as wide. "Dang, Creed. I don't think you have to get _all_ the roots out. I'm pretty sure a new tree would be lost in a hole that size."

"Oh?" Creed considered that for a long moment, expression relieved. "I suppose," he agreed finally. "And it might fall out the other side."

"To China?" Train asked, laughing.

With a serious look, Creed shook his head. "A tree's reach should not outstrip its grasp. Or what's a cliff-side for?"

"It went through the cliff-side?" At Creed's nod, Train shook his head. "No, I definitely think you shouldn't dig anymore. Talk about over-enthusiasm." He laughed after a moment, thinking about the hole and what it said about Creed's personality. "I shouldn't be surprised, though. You've always been so thorough."

"A job worth doing is worth doing well, isn't it?" Creed asked, eyes curious as they looked at Train.

"Don't let perfect get in the way of good," Train shot back. Two could play the quote game, after all. "But if you're having fun and not hurting anything – including yourself – I don't see that it's a problem." He opened the door for his companion and followed Creed into the cafeteria. "Now then, will you join me in a jug of milk?"

"I don't know," Creed answered. "I don't think we'd fit." At Train's wince of pain a little smile curved the man's lips. "Chocolate, please."

"Sit down and I'll get it." Train watched his friend take a seat near the window and gaze out at the gardens beyond. _It's working,_ he thought. _He's not normal, no, but he's happy, and that's what matters._ Realizing that he really was thinking of Creed as a friend, he considered the thought for a long moment and knew that it was true. Creed _was_ a messed up basket-case but the man did have some good points that made him someone Train was beginning to be glad to know. _I'd never have seen this side of him if we were still with Chronos, or if we'd stayed enemies. Never have found out what's underneath the armor his training built for him. I'm meeting the real Creed now and I think I like him._ Picking up their milks, he carried them back to the table so he could continue getting to know the man.


	11. Rosen'krantz' an 'Balder'stern are? Dead...

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

ROSEN'KRANTZ' AND 'BALDER'STERN ARE DEAD?

_August 21, 2003 _

The first thing that warned Creed that things weren't right was the scream. In a sanitarium, of course, screams were pretty much par for the course, but there was something to the quality of this one that differed from a madman's howls. Creed couldn't have put his finger on what the difference was, but it was enough to make him put down his book and peer out of his room.

The hallway seemed too quiet, especially so close to dinner time, and Creed cocked his head, listening, and heard the sound of crashing metal on metal. A voice said something, tone hard and angry, but he couldn't make out the words. _The cafeteria?_

Slowly Creed padded barefoot down the hallway to the stairs, then down the stairs to the next level. As he did so, the sounds clarified into those of a fight. A female voice gasped in terror. "Please Stop"

Creed didn't really need to hear the next voice to have a good guess as to who was the target. Someone had found out he was there. "Harboring our enemies is a death sentence," the voice said. "Now, where is Diskence?"

The speaker was one of Chronos' numbers. Krantz, who usually teamed with Balder, as Creed recalled. Clearly his location had been discovered and these two were here to take him in, or to kill him. _They're killing the staff. They'll kill everyone here,_ Creed realized, frowning. Adrenaline and the associated endorphins surged through him as he understood the danger, allowing pathways to link that ordinarily failed miserably. Allowing him to think clearly for a little while. Allowing his training to take over. He trembled, pulse racing and fought for control.

For several long moments Creed considered his options. He could run, but they would certainly follow. He could stand and fight here, but that posed another problem. One which would never have mattered if not for one thing. He didn't care much if there was collateral damage, but Train would. _He would want as few people hurt as possible._

With a sigh, Creed realized there really was only one choice. He stepped through the doors, just in time to see one of the nurses thrown against the wall, her eyes wide in shock, blood staining the soft pastels of her uniform. "Run!" she gasped, seeing him. It came as a deep surprise to Creed that his life mattered to her and he stared at her in confusion.

Two men turned to face Creed, both slightly taller than himself. The one man was dark, with a goatee and a cruel smile. In his hand he held a metallic ball that Creed knew could be thrown and dragged back by its chain to devastating effect. Balder. Krantz, the other man, stood a bit taller and broader shouldered than even his partner and his light hair was partially concealed in the helmet that covered the upper half of his head. Both wore neat dark business suits that made their current behavior seem terribly incongruous.

"Creed Diskence," Balder said coolly. "We've come to give you an invitation."

"Thank you," Creed imitated Balder's tone, shaking off the moment of confusion and forcing himself to think. "But, no thank you. I've become something of a stay at home, these days."

"It wasn't a request," Krantz growled. "_Please_ tell me you'll fight. Number One wants you alive if possible, but I'm perfectly willing to bring you back in pieces."

Creed eyed Krantz for a long moment. Then he smiled sweetly. "That's fine," he agreed. "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" He glanced out the window at the afternoon sky "Oops. Guess I'm early." He spun around and ran, hearing the two coming after him.

---

Balder moved first, reacting to their target's attempt to escape by flinging his ball at the thin figure. Not quite fast enough – Creed always had been quick on his feet – for the weapon buried itself in the wall just beside the doorway.

Retrieving the weapon and rushing after their target, Balder wondered once again what the man was doing here. The place showed no signs of being a headquarters for the Hoshi No Shito. Yet there the little bastard was, dressed in the uniform of an inmate and acting like he lived here. One might almost think he really _was_ an inmate. _God knows he should be._

"Which way?" Krantz asked, as the two men came to a halt outside. Late afternoon sunlight gleamed down through thick scudding clouds onto a well tended garden, a pathway leading up into a wooded area, another leading away towards a large pond. A high wind was rising around them, a storm was headed their way, complicating matters further.

"We have no choice. Can't take the chance of his getting away and the little bastard left no trail. We split up. First one that finds him can yell for the other. Don't engage him unless you have to." Balder frowned at the gardens. "You head that way, I'll take the forest." Krantz tended to be the backup in their team and Balder rather suspected Creed would head for the territory more inconvenient to fight in.

"Right."

---

---

Creed moved cautiously through the trees, listening closely for pursuit. Light streamed through thick branches and he forced down a giggle as he watched it flicker. _Can't defocus now._ He couldn't let them win. His own life didn't matter as much to him, but he knew they'd go back after the people in the sanitarium when they'd finished him. _Train wouldn't want that. Not with that soft kindness of his._

Creed had disdained the kindness once, but now, when it had been turned on him, he could not deny its power. The nurse's face when she'd seen him, her expression of fear _for_ him, the kind treatment they'd given someone they knew to be a homicidal maniac – all those facts were coalescing into an urge he'd never felt before. _I won't let them be killed. I WILL NOT! _

Still, the situation was desperate. Behind him either Balder and Krantz was chasing him. He was fairly sure they'd have had to split up. He'd chosen to keep to the pathways to avoid leaving a trail, knowing that the two men couldn't afford to lose him. Two Chronos Numbers – at his current level of strength – was probably out of his league. One at a time, he thought, might just be doable, as long as one or both of the two wasn't Sephiria or Belze. _So the next question is, what do I _do_?_

As the pathway wound its way through the forest the light began to dim, a rising storm blocking its brilliance. Creed took a deep breath and turned, waiting.

---

---

Balder skidded to a halt, startled to find his quarry standing amid the trees. _Damnit. Have I miscalculated? Does he have an ally?_ There was no sound except that of the rising wind. It was getting darker, not just because of the thick branches but because of the clouds rolling in fast from the ocean. The roll of thunder hammered its way through his bones.

For a moment the two men stood silent, Balder struggling to listen for another attacker, spreading his attention around. "KRANTZ," he shouted and realized the howl of the wind might make it impossible for his partner to hear him. _All right. Don't panic. Krantz will realize pretty quickly that he went the wrong way and come back._ The trouble was, even if he did head for the forest the helmeted Number Four would then have to figure out which of the many labyrinthine paths Creed and Balder had taken.

_Why isn't Creed attacking?_ Balder wondered. The thin figure simply stood there watching him, hands at his sides _HANDS? Shit! I thought Janos cut off his arm!_ He was shaken now, unnerved both by Creed's silence and by the peculiarity. _They must have found a way to reattach it,_ he reassured himself. _Or it's a prosthetic Damn good one if it is. Still, it's not moving._

A flash of lightning lit the skies, showing Balder's opponent in stark relief, showing the mad little smile that curved Creed's lips. Short white hair lashed around the thin face, swirling around the insane features. For the barest moment longer Creed gazed at Balder, then he raced forwards, right hand moving as if it were swinging a sword, though it clutched what appeared to be empty air. The left hand remained at his side, confirming Balder's belief that the arm was either false or next to useless.

Balder swung his ball and chain around, revving up the rockets as he did, spinning it around at top speed. Even if that damned Imagine Blade _was_ aimed his way it wasn't strong enough to cut orihalcon, though Janos' report _had_ warned it could at least chip the metal.

The wrecking ball struck branches and trunks as Balder spun around and around, setting up figure eights and circles as he defended himself. He worked to create a circle of damage that not only brought down everything it touched but helped form a clear spot around him where he could be certain his weapon wouldn't get snagged. The rocket power generally made such occurrences impossible, but the forest here was thick and dangerously tangled, even for him. Creed was forced to dance around his efforts, avoiding both the wrecking ball and the falling trees.

Suddenly Creed swung his arm and Balder felt his chain strike something that brought it to a halt. Staring, he realized that something resembling a sword crossed with a shark was wrapped around the chain, enmeshing it. "I hate it when my schwartz gets all tangled up with someone else's!" Creed shouted at him. "Don't you?" He was rushing at Balder, right arm thrust backwards as his Imagine Blade somehow _twisted_ itself around Balder's chain.

_What is that sick little bastard talking about?_ Balder had time to think before he found himself forced to dodge a long delicate little blade that seemed to have appeared in Creed's left hand. _Shit. It's real. SHIT!_ He wasn't moving fast enough. Balder simply hadn't expected Creed's Tao born blade to be able to twist itself into what was practically a knot that way. He most especially hadn't believed that that left arm was capable of anything but hanging helplessly at Creed's side. _I'm a dead man_ he realized, even as he stepped backwards from the rapidly descending poniard.

Only to have it stop bare inches from his throat.

---

_Train. Oh God. Train wouldn't want me to kill him either._ Creed shuddered to a stop, as the blade he'd created with his nano-machines shattered, knowing that doing so would probably mean his death. Life wouldn't matter to him, though, if he managed to screw up and anger Train enough to wash his hands of Creed. _This is going to hurt._

He barely had time to think that and to start to leap backwards before Balder had buried a fist in his stomach. The blow knocked some of the wind from him and he stumbled, falling onto his back, unable to maintain the Imagine Blade.

Blow after blow rained down at Creed, Number Eight's wrecking ball narrowly missing vital points. One strike snapped his left shinbone, another struck him in the face, crushing bone and half-blinding him as the eyeball burst. Still more blows broke ribs and crushed muscle. Creed could feel his nano-machines setting to work, blocking pain and repairing the damage. _Too slow. They can't keep up with this._ Creed rolled into the bushes, forced himself to his feet and struggled to make his way deeper into the forest, spitting out teeth as he ran, the taste of his blood and fear bitter in his mouth.

"YOU CAN'T GET AWAY, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Balder shouted over the howling wind and Creed smiled wryly to himself. He had no intention of escaping, but he needed a moment's respite, a moment to consider his next move.

_I still can't escape. Can't even let them take me. I do that and they'll just go back and kill everyone at the hospital. Can't kill them, so I have to incapacitate them._ The question was, how? Creed listened to the sound of trees being knocked down and winced. _After all the work I did on this place, he's ruining it. And that's a pretty low priority, Creed. Focus. You have _got_ to focus._

Priorities. The biggest priority was surviving long enough for the hospital to call Train and tell his love what had happened. _Doctor Jones will call him. Please let Doctor Jones call him _Damaged as he was, though, he had a feeling he couldn't afford to wait. The home Sven had recently bought to provide a solid base for the group was too far from the asylum. His body wanted to collapse already, and if he let it he'd be a dead man. _Very well. I can't hold them off for Train to handle. I have to deal with them myself and I have to incapacitate them without killing them. What would Train do? What would he want _me_ to do? _

The problem with that, though, was that Train would do something so off the wall and unexpected that there was no way to predict it. Whether it was merely a supreme talent for scheming or the luck Train claimed it to be didn't matter. Neither was something Creed could manage at this point. His brain was barely managing to focus on the fight as it was. _I'm out of the habit. It'd be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that I _need_ my brain right now. PLEASE_

The sound of another tree coming down made Creed frown. That wrecking ball of Balder's was the big problem. If he could only disarm Number Eight he might have a chance at getting close. Suddenly he smiled as an idea slowly dawned.

---

Balder leapt over a falling tree, glaring through the rain and scanning the darkness for his quarry, only to stop as he spotted Creed leaning against one tree, gasping for air, back turned. He paused, then moved forward with more confidence. The little bastard _might_ be faking it, but Balder knew just how many strikes Creed had taken, and was fairly sure his enemy was too badly hurt to do anything. He prepared to launch his wrecking ball again.

As the rockets revved up and the ball went flying, however, Creed moved. Not forwards, not sideways, not backwards, but upwards. He reached out, grasping a branch above him that Balder would have sworn was too high for him to reach and pulling himself into the air. Almost by instinct, Balder followed the move, using the wrecking ball's guidance system to send it after Creed.

Spinning around the branch, Creed seemed to come to a momentary halt at the top of his loop, hand clutching tightly. Then, as Creed continued his movement, the wrecking ball followed as Balder put a spin on the device. _The branch can't be strong enough. Even if I miss this time,_ Balder thought, _I'll be able to retrieve and try again._ He'd uprooted lampposts that way before.

Closely followed by the wrecking ball, Creed dropped to the ground as the ball wrapped itself around the branch, unable to defy the laws of physics any further than it already had. Balder snarled a curse, even as he prepared to pull his weapon free.

As he did so, however, Creed spun around, sword hand slicing.

---

Creed took a deep breath and straightened, gazing at Balder, who stared at him with a startled expression that – quickly – turned smug and self-satisfied. "Clever try. But you missed, you fool!" As the Chronos agent pulled at his weapon, dragging it towards him, Creed smiled wryly. The tree Balder's wrecking ball was entangled in was – seemingly in slow motion – tipping towards his enemy. Before Balder could even take in his mistake, the tree had leaned too far for him to do anything but leap backwards, leaving his wrecking ball entangled and trapped beneath it.

"Need I comment that I wasn't aiming for you?" Creed asked, giggling. It was so rare these days that his love of drama was permitted an outlet and it was an immense relief that the plan had actually worked. _The universe is actually cooperating with me for once. Don't suppose I could convince it to make Train love me? No? Didn't think so. _

A snarl curled Balder's lips as Number Eight leapt over the tree. "You're still a dead man, Creed!" he shouted over the howl of the wind. "When I get you."

"You're not going to get me," Creed answered, timing the man's movements and lifting his left hand when Balder was a yard away. His forearm narrowed, allowing it to shoot forward the remaining distance and his left hand took on a shape that he'd once seen in a movie. "Face hugger got _you_!"

Fingers transformed to bony insectile legs, he wrapped them around Balder's head, the palm of his hand pressing itself to Balder's face. As it did, he reshaped it, using the shape of Balder's features as a guide, part of his substance pressing into the other man's nostrils and more forcing itself into the man's mouth, blocking the air passages by the simple expedient of sliding into and filling them completely. "Gross," he muttered. "This is so unutterably gross. Do you ever clean that goatee? It feels like you've left about a pound of bubble gum in there. And your hair You use too much of that greasy kid stuff!" He was, he knew, babbling with relief.

Balder made a muffled sound, trying to break free, trying to break Creed's arm, but the nano-machine formed substance was impossible for the man to injure. Seconds ticked while Number Eight struggled, twisting and fighting and biting futilely. Creed ignored the effort, focusing his thoughts on keeping his hand in shape and position, waiting for the man to collapse.

Even when Balder finally did give way, Creed gave the process a good half minute longer, to make sure his victim wasn't faking it. Then he dropped the man and sighed, hand returning to its natural shape. "Two four six eight, who did we appreciate?" he muttered. "Not you, certainly." Shaking the nasty stuff off he hurried to disentangle the wrecking ball's chain from the tree, using his Imagine Blade to cut away the wood. He had a very special use to put the thing to.

---

---

Krantz took several deep breaths. _Naturally the one who ends up finding the bastard first is Balder._ He muttered a few choice curses under his breath as he headed back up the path to the woods, only some of which were actually aimed at their target. Most of his annoyance at the moment was the fact that – by taking the open paths – he'd been totally and utterly soaked by the storm that raged overhead.

_If I were a superstitious man I'd think the elements were conspiring against us in Creed's favor._ He wiped water off his face, suddenly glad of his blindness. The rain would have made it impossible for him to see anyway. _Though this noise isn't making things any easier. _

Passing through an area of woods that had clearly been the point where Balder had found Creed – if all the felled trees were any indication – Krantz followed the path of destruction, coming to a halt as he sensed a figure sitting on a fallen log. _Creed._

Pausing momentarily, Krantz considered the man. That he'd fought Balder was obvious. His other senses showed him that clearly. Blood scent in the air, breath coming in short fast pants. The processors in his helmet showed the man's position and Creed's posture suggested utter exhaustion. Even so, Krantz could tell the man was watching his approach.

"Nibble, nibble little mouse," Creed murmured in that mad little voice. "Good of you to drop in, Krantz." He giggled, as if something was terribly amusing.

"Where's Balder?" Krantz really wasn't sure why he bothered asking. It wasn't as if Balder would be quietly hanging around while Creed was still free, after all.

Creed laughed, a peculiar little-boy chuckle that Krantz didn't like at all. "Balder? Oh, I suppose you could say he's tied up at the moment." He chuckled again. "Bad one, Creed. Very bad. Shouldn't talk like James Bond in the middle of something so important." He pulled himself to his feet. "Never mind Balder, Krantz. I believe you're next on my dance card. Shall we?"

---

Krantz' blade flashed silver as another bolt of lightning crossed the sky and Creed dodged as quickly as possible. Not fast enough, though, for the edge sliced across his chest and stomach, trailing blood.

Dodging and weaving, slowly working his way backwards, Creed giggled. "First blood to you, it seems." He took another cut across his right arm, a third down the cheek, before he was able to get to the pathway and set off at a dead run – or, rather dead limp, ignoring the pain in his broken leg without much effort. He was a weaker fighter than he had been before, when the training he'd received from Chronos had kept him focused, but one thing remained the same. Pain could be ignored when necessary. Ignored or even welcomed.

Somewhere ahead of him someone was shouting angrily. Balder must have finally woken up to find himself trapped. Creed ignored that as well, focusing on getting his body to the pit. _Good thing I hadn't filled it in yet._ Krantz was going to pose more of a problem if Creed couldn't trap the man.

Several times the Chronos Number caught up with Creed, forcing him to defend himself. It wasn't easy to fight when he was trying not to kill, but it had to be done. He was bleeding profusely by the time he reached the edge of the cliff. The cut across the belly was the worst, barely held in place by the nano-machines, he could feel his stomach trying to rip open. _I am _so _going to pay for this later. Given there _is_ a later. _

"Nowhere left to go, Creed," Krantz growled.

"BE CAREFUL KRANTZ! WATCH OUT FOR HIS LEFT ARM!" The voice was Balder's and it caused Number Four to jerk to a halt and turn his face upwards. It was impossible to see much of the man's expression under the helmet, but Krantz' mouth dropped open as he 'stared' upwards towards the tree where Creed had slung the larger man. Balder was struggling against the orihalcon chain wound around him and the upper branches.

"Now see? I told you he was tied up," Creed said in as sweet a voice as he could manage. As Krantz swung at him he raised his left arm, letting the substance give way beneath the blade. Then, as Krantz went off balance, he shifted the hand again, making it one long tentacle that grabbed his enemy's arm. "Creed go down the HOooOOle!" he shouted happily, as they dropped into the pit behind him.

---

Krantz found himself falling face first down into a hole, his blade arm somehow grasped in something that felt like nothing so much as an elephant's trunk or an octopus' tentacle. Confused, his weapon blocked, he struggled to break free, even as he slid forward. Ahead of him, Creed was sliding a bit faster, howling with mad laughter as they fell.

Suddenly they came to a halt, Creed bare inches from him. Thru his infrared processors he could sense the bright, happy, grin on the man's face and he couldn't help but shudder. Janos had said the man fought like a lunatic and now he saw just how right that was. _He belongs in that asylum,_ Krantz thought as he pulled at his arm. Now that the slide had stopped, he could tell that what was holding him did indeed resemble a tentacle, but it was actually Creed's left arm – reshaped by some bizarre means to entrap him.

Krantz growled a curse. "Let me go, you bastard!"

Chuckling, Creed nodded. "Oh, of course. I need that hand anyway." He released Krantz' arm, his own returning to a more natural shape. "Bye bye." Suddenly he dropped backwards, sliding away from Krantz and disappearing from sight.

Angrily, Krantz let himself slide forward. Indeed, he would have been hard put to avoid doing so, for the slope of the passage made it nearly impossible to go backwards. Figuring that Creed wouldn't be going somewhere unsafe, he didn't put as much brakes on his forward motion as he might have. A moment later he found himself dangling over a long drop, legs and arms struggling to keep himself from going even an inch further. Digging his feet into the sides he managed, somehow, to pull himself backwards until he was in a somewhat safer position._ What the hell?_ Blindness had never seemed so good. The sound of surf far below him was more than enough to tell him what a close call he'd had.

"Enthusiastic, Krantz," Creed gasped from somewhere above him, apparently perched on an outcropping over five feet away. Krantz couldn't figure out how he'd gotten there, but realized speculation was a moot point for the moment. "Shouldn't leap before you look. Oops. Sorry. Forgot, you can't see!"

"You bastard" Krantz wasn't sure he was angrier about the situation or the way Creed was mocking him.

"No. I really think mummy and daddy were married," Creed objected. "Though I could be wrong. My memory just isn't what it used to be anymore." He waved his right hand in a shrug. "Sorry to just leave you hanging Oh, another bad one. I really should stop watching those movies," he added. "007 is sooo bad for one's communication skills."

Krantz cursed, wanting to grab at Creed, only to realize that he didn't dare move forward. The infrared processors showed him very little, but he had a sense that Creed raised his right arm high above him. Something huge and shark like seemed to extend from Creed's fist, rising and falling to strike a spot in the cliff side above. There was a crash and a rumbling sound and suddenly Krantz knew what Creed had done. _He's caved the passage in._

Clutching at the sides of the hole, sure that he was going to fall as the dirt poured down on him, Krantz was startled to find a strong hand holding him steady. Creed had stretched his left arm to impossible lengths in order to keep Krantz from going down. "Hold tight, now. I'm relatively sure that flight isn't part of Chronos' training program. That's an awfully long drop and those rocks down there would leave _quite_ an impression." He giggled maniacally again. "Oopsy. Did it again, didn't I?"

Krantz' answer was unprintable. Dirt was pouring out of the hole around him and Creed grinned. "It won't be enough to push you out," he said in that annoyingly sweet voice. "But you won't be getting out of there anytime soon, either." As Krantz continued to curse, Creed began to climb up the side of the cliff.

Only one thing comforted the Chronos Number as he lay trapped in the dirt. Creed might have escaped, but he was horribly injured. _If he manages to get far I'll eat my helmet._

---

Balder snarled angrily as a thin pale form clawed its way up the cliff side and collapsed into a heap. _How did he do it? What is up with that arm of his? We knew about the Imagine Blade. We knew he was Chronos trained and one step short of becoming a Number. But that arm That's new._ He struggled, only to stop as he realized the attempt was likely to bring him crashing down. A fall from this height wouldn't kill him, but tied up the way he was it would surely injure him badly.

Glaring at the badly injured man below, limned by the brilliance of the lightning flashing high above them, Balder yelled curses at his enemy. Chronos would be there soon and – with no one to help him – Creed would be completely helpless. It was obvious the man was past his strength. _Stupid fool wasted too much time playing around,_ Balder thought sourly. _Should have killed me and Krantz when he had the chance._

It did not occur to him that his enemy had not intended to kill.

---

The struggle up the cliff had just about unmanned Creed. Only the instinct to get under cover made him get up again, made him stumble blindly through the brush. Above him a voice was yelling furious curses, but he ignored it as easily as he ignored the rain soaking him.

Managing a few yards worth of stumbling steps took the last of his reserves. Creed finally crumpled to the ground among the bushes. He could feel the nano-machines taking over, numbing him and forcing his body to remain still. Now that the fight was over he could let them do their job. _Not that it's likely to matter, if Train doesn't get here before Chronos._ The thought was barely meaningful to him and he let it slide away.

The only really important thing was that he survive until Train found him. _Please. Just this one last thing Let me see him before_ The thought slid away along with the pain, leaving him drifting down into nothingness. _Train. _

---

---

Train followed the trail of blood – dark black in the light from his flashlight – and wondered whose it was with a sinking feeling. If Creed had returned from the fight he'd know Balder and Krantz were likely dead, but with no one coming back the certainty that Creed had been overwhelmed was almost absolute. _Not that I expected otherwise. _

Climbing over trees felled by something round and immensely hard, Train recognized Balder's work. Krantz was mostly a knife fighter and if the blood were Creed's, the helmeted Chronos Number was the most likely cause of the stains Train followed. He was fairly sure of one thing, though. Creed may have fallen, but Balder and Krantz were unlikely to leave the field entirely unscathed. Even now, nearly a year since Creed had been checked into the sanitarium, the white-haired madman would be a difficult proposition to fight. _Considering the mess they made at the asylum, I'm not sure I'd be sorry if he killed them._

Quickly Train shoved that thought aside. He _would_ be sorry, because it would mean that Creed hadn't been able to hold to his promise. With most people that wouldn't be quite so disastrous, with someone like Creed it might be impossible to bring him back again. He was just glad that only two people were dead and that the police and government agents were guarding the asylum now. Chronos had no power over this country's government and further interference wouldn't be appreciated. _Though it does complicate things if Creed's alive. _

At last Train halted at the cliff side that overlooked the ocean. There was still no sign of any of the three fighters and he moved close to the edge to look over. Then he started to laugh, relief surging through him.

"It is _not_ funny, you little bastard," Krantz growled up at Train. "Help me out of this." Somehow Creed had managed to half bury Krantz in the side of the cliff, doing so in such a way that Krantz couldn't get out without ending up dropping down to the rocks below. As long as the helmeted Chronos Number stayed still he would be safe enough. _I guess Creed found a use for that pit after all. _

"And while you're at it," another voice demanded furiously, "get me down from here!"

Train turned and looked back up the trail. After a moment he spotted the source of the voice from somewhere up a tree and now he really did fall on the ground laughing. Balder was hanging there, wrapped up in the chain of his weapon, completely unable to move. Only his face, suffused and red with anger, could be seen above the silvery orihalcon metal.

"Quit laughing, bastard! Get us out of this!"

"Chronos will be here soon enough to help you out, I'm sure," Train answered, still chuckling, still amazed that Creed had managed to not only incapacitate the two agents but to do so in a manner so utterly humiliating and yet – at the same time – completely harmless. It suddenly hit Train that Creed had done it for him. That Train's wish to avoid killing had at least infected Creed enough that – even if the madman might prefer to kill – he would do his best to comply with Train's wishes. _Now I can only pray he didn't die keeping his promise. _

Searching around, following the blood trail further, Train finally spotted a bare foot sticking out from under the brush. He moved towards it and hoped that it was still attached to its owner. Then he pushed the bushes sideways and winced. "Oh man. You _are_ a mess, aren't you?" In the circle of light cast by his flashlight the battered figure of his former partner looked more like the result of a badly performed butchery than a human being. Only the soft moans that accompanied Creed's breathing showed he was alive.

A dark eye opened, the other too damaged to follow suit, and a thin wan smile managed to form on Creed's face. "Yes I think I am," he agreed. "I'm glad – so very glad – to see you, Train."

---

Creed whimpered as Train lifted him up and carried him through the woods. His beloved was trying very hard to be gentle but everything hurt. He glanced down at himself through his good eye, and tried not to groan when Train stumbled slightly, jostling his exhausted body. As Train tightened his grip, Creed had to fight back an urge to curl up against his rescuer and lean close. Train wouldn't want him to do that.

"Go ahead," Train sighed.

"Huh?" Creed asked, blinking at Train. Through one eye, his beloved's face seemed strangely distorted.

"Lean on me."

"But"

"You just fought Balder and Krantz, Creed. You're missing teeth, have broken ribs, a crushed eye. Your leg is broken and the only reason you haven't bled out from all the knife wounds Krantz gave you is that your nano-machines have been working overtime. Not only that, but you essentially beat and humiliated those two doofuses. All without killing them when I know they fully intended to kill you. If that alone doesn't deserve my congratulations and my letting you put your bloody – literally, I might add – head on my shoulder, nothing does."

Creed blinked back tears and curled up as closely as his aching body would allow, too exhausted to fight his need anymore. "I did good?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, Creed. You did good. Now lean on me and rest. I'm taking you home."

To Be Continued....


	12. Intermezzo: Chronos

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: CHRONOS

_August 22, 2003 _

"I suppose you plan on explaining this?" Sephiria gazed levelly at her two wayward numbers. Of all her subordinates, Balder and Krantz were the least obedient, most difficult to control. Their training – from childhood – under the Second Elder's aegis had made them both arrogant and given to violence above and beyond the call of duty. Sephiria used them only when she required something memorable or when the collateral damage could be kept to a minimum.

Unfortunately the two men had taken the failure to erase Creed Diskence and the Hoshi last year as a personal insult. Ever since then they had been on the lookout for another chance and – finding it – had gone off on their own to take care of him. They'd paid for their impetuosity with only their dignity, something they ought to have been entirely grateful for, but their expressions told Sephiria that their attitudes remained unchanged.

"He's Chronos' enemy," Balder said quietly as Krantz's lips tightened over whatever _he_ wanted to add. "It's our duty to dispose of him."

"It's also your duty to serve Chronos' interests," Sephiria pointed out. She glanced down at the report Belze had given her. "You risked publicity of a particularly unpleasant sort in an area that is not yet under our control. An area that has kept its sovereignty despite all our efforts to convince them to join us. Do you understand that you may have ruined _years_ of negotiations and diplomacy? The government of that area is highly displeased that one of its most regarded asylums has been attacked and innocents killed."

"THEY WERE HARBORING CREED DISKENCE!" Krantz yelled furiously.

"A fact that I was aware of and was in the midst of negotiating. You've ruined all hope of our capturing him." Sephiria's voice was quiet, after Krantz' shouting, but it cut through the air like a knife. "Belze tells me he was rescued by the Black Cat. I don't know how Train Heartnet came into this, but I do know one thing. Whatever it is he's up to will be entirely out of left field and completely impossible to predict, much less control."

Balder muttered something uncomplimentary about Train Heartnet, but Sephiria ignored it. "Frankly," she continued, "From what I'm told, the two of you are lucky to be alive. I don't know what's going on in Creed Diskence's head, but."

"Creed Diskence's head is ours," Krantz grumbled. "I'll stick it in a toilet. Then show him the death of a thousand cuts, if I get my hands on him again."

"Not if I get him first," Balder objected. "I."

"Neither of you are going to go after him. Right now you are confined to quarters. And if you ever, ever, go off on your own again after so much as a mouse, _I_ will hang _you_ up by your heels and bury _you_ head first. Now get out of here, before I lose my temper with you."

As the two Numbers left her office, Sephiria sat back and sighed. _What am I going to do now? And what are _you_ up to, Train? _

To Be Continued....


	13. He Followed Me Home

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

HE FOLLOWED ME HOME, CAN I KEEP HIM?

_August 22, 2003 _

Sven glared down at his partner and struggled not to shout, well, not to shout loudly at least. "Have you lost your mind? Has what's left of your brain gone off hunting for Creed's?" He gestured towards the couch where Eve was carefully resetting Creed's left leg, while the pale-haired loony toon fought back curses.

"Down lollipop lane?" Creed asked, glancing away from Eve's efforts with that bright smile that always sent chills down Sven's spine. _On someone else – a kid maybe – it'd be cute. On him, it's terrifying._ "And he's right, Train. This isn't a good idea."

"Stop moving," Eve ordered calmly, shifting her hand shape to allow her a better grip on the leg. "You'll just make things worse. Do you want the nano-machines to think your left leg should be three inches shorter than the right? There's a lot of shattered bone in there."

"I don't think they'd make that error."

"Don't give them the chance to. They're at their limits as it is. Hold still. And don't fiddle with that eye patch. Give things time to heal."

Sven ignored the two on the couch and waved his arms at Train. "You see? Even the loony toon agrees with me!" He paused, getting a sour taste in his mouth. _And what does that mean, in the long run, if _Creed_ agrees with _me The two of them had never agreed on anything in those few times that they'd come into contact over the last year. "For once," he added.

"So, tell me what I _should_ do?" Train asked quietly. "Find another sanitarium? What happens when Chronos figures that out and sends agents after him again? He managed to keep too many from getting killed this time, but they might send more. Give him to the authorities? He'll never stand trial. Not when he knows so much about Chronos. They'll have him killed in prison. Give him _to_ Chronos? Even if they let him live for a little while – to study his nano-machines, or his Tao – they'll still kill him in the end. Nor would they treat him very well while he lived."

Sweat beaded on his brow while Eve cleaned up some of the deeper cuts, Creed smiled again, but this smile was far less bright, if not positively frightened. "Or cut me up into itty bitty little pieces and _still_ keep me alive." His expression shifted, face paling as he seemed to realize the full enormity of what he'd suggested. "Train kill me before they do that Don't let themPlease." Looking at him, Sven suddenly had an idea of what the smaller man feared and he felt a sharp edge of pity. _They'd do the same to Eve if they thought it would help them, wouldn't they?_ he realized. Sephiria had been kind to Eve when they'd met that one time, but she served Chronos and her duty came first with her.

"I won't let them torture you, Creed," Train reassured his former partner, glancing Creed's way with an expression that Sven found curiously tender and gentle. Turning back to Sven, Train cocked his head. "So? Do you know anywhere in this world that's safe for him as long as Chronos wants him dead?"

"That isn't going to change," Sven pointed out angrily. "How do you propose convincing them that they should leave him alone?" More important was that Chronos leave _them_ alone. World order was all very well, but far less so when you were the nail that needed to be hammered back down.

"I've got the answer to that," Eve said quietly. "We extort it out of them. I hacked into their computers. I have enough evidence to break them if we have to."

Sven looked at the little girl who had become such a necessary part of their team. On one hand he was proud of her skills and the way that she'd grown up from a confused little clone to a very strong minded young woman. On the other hand, there were moments when she still appalled him. Rather to his surprise, however, it was Creed who demanded, "Eve, are you as mad as I am? You've been hacking Chronos? What if they caught you?"

"They haven't," Eve answered, shrugging. "Their systems aren't built to keep someone like _me_ out." She paused and considered things a moment. "Though I'll bet that will change, once we use the information I've gathered."

Cocking his head at Sven, Train continued, "What other choices do we have? Unless I kill him right here and now – and _no,_ Creed, I have no intention of wasting all the work of this last year by killing you – we have to force Chronos to leave him alone."

Sven shook his head. "I still think this is a crazy plan," he sighed.

Creed looked up, eyes suddenly filled with doubt. "It _is_ crazy. Crazier than I am." He reached a hand out towards Train, the fingers trembling, then pulled it back as if suddenly self-conscious. "Even if they let you keep me it means you'll _have_ to keep me. I'll be a burden on you forever"

"I knew that when I took on getting you better, Creed. Stop dramatizing and let me handle it," Train sighed.

Sven, looking at Creed's sad expression, felt a moment of pity. He didn't like the situation, but somehow he had a feeling Train was right. Unless they killed Creed themselves, the white-haired madman's future would be a bleak and disastrous one. Even wanting to protect his friends and keep them safe, Sven wasn't willing to hand someone over to be slowly tortured to death. He only knew a bit about Chronos and the Numbers, but he knew from Train that they could be devastatingly cruel when crossed. "Okay," he said calmly. "We'll try it."

_August 23, 2003 _

Creed sipped slowly at the hot beef tea that Eve had forced him to drink, reminding him that while the nano-machines would replace damaged areas, they could only do so at a fixed rate of speed. He was badly injured enough that he needed to supplement their efforts with more standard methods of healing – especially since Doctor's stasis device was no longer available to him.

On the other side of the room, a woman's voice was obviously trying very hard not to show anger. "How dare you, Train?"

"Easily," Train answered coldly. "I've spent the last half year taking care of Creed. Taking care of him and trying to help him recover from the damage your training did to him. I don't know if he'd have ended up feeling the way he does towards me without your interference but you damn well _made_ him my responsibility when you practically imprinted me on him."

While Sephiria – Chronos' Number One – sputtered angrily and tried to protest that it hadn't been _her_ idea, after all, Creed wondered himself what he would have done if he'd met Train before his training. He'd been less in control then, utterly unable to focus past the damage that had been done to him so many years earlier. The memory drifted off though, shifting away as it always did from something that he was not yet able to face. Instead he watched the way the sunlight glittered on a butterfly floating past the window and smiled foolishly at it.

"Never mind that, Sephiria. The point is, I don't _want_ to hand him over to you. I know what you'll do to him. Even if you kept him alive it wouldn't be a life worth living."

Creed started singing softly to himself. "Toe bone disconnected from the foot bone. Foot bone disconnected from the anklebone." He stopped when the others, Train, Sephiria and Sven all stared at him and Eve tapped him lightly on the head, muttering, "Don't interrupt."

Drifting away was easy, and Creed turned his attention on Train, admiring the intensity of the dark-haired man's expression. So much passion. It made him feel so good to know it was being turned towards his protection. _He doesn't have to love me,_ Creed thought, smiling sadly. _It's almost just enough that he cares enough to take care of me._ He wondered if he would ever be able to stand on his feet enough not to be a burden.

_Maybe it would be better if I went with her?_ He realized he'd spoken aloud when, once more, the others in the room turned and stared at him, Train with that exasperated expression that he got when Creed was being particularly melodramatic. "I know," he said, looking at his love with a tired look. "But if I stay here, or even in a sanitarium if _she_ let me, I'll still be a burden you don't need. You certainly didn't ask for me."

Sephiria eyed the white-haired man with a mixture of exasperation and anger and confusion. Her duty was certainly clear. No matter what Train might have that would harm Chronos, Creed surely represented the greater threat. His Hoshi No Shito were, after all, still busily causing trouble for Chronos, though in much subtler ways than before. Doubt assailed her, however, as she looked at the fragile, badly injured man on the couch. _Why?_ she asked herself, recalling the story her two Numbers had told of their fight. _Why didn't he kill them? He could have. Certainly Balder would have gone down. Creed wouldn't be so messed up now, if he'd finished Number Eight off immediately._

There were other confusions. Creed hadn't shown up at all since late last year, hadn't seemed to be involving himself in his followers' trouble-making. She'd thought he was still recovering from losing his arm in that fight with Cerberus, but it'd turned out he'd been in that sanitarium all along. _Checked in by Train, too, who is very clearly _not_ involved with the Hoshi. And how did the little maniac get his arm back, anyway? Those nano-machines?_

At last, lips tightening, she turned to Train. "I will talk with him outside."

Train's expression grew tense and angry. That was another confusion. She knew Creed had killed someone Train cared about – that Sweeper girl, Saya. He had no reason to want to protect the murderous little beast, yet he was. "No." The single word was flat and brooked no argument.

"Train Please. Stop." Creed's voice trembled with some undefined emotion. "Don't you see it isn't any use? All you'll do is turn Chronos against _you_, too." The black eyes gazed at Train pleadingly. "I can't let you do that."

"You said you'd do what I wanted," Train looked at Creed with a commanding expression. "This is what I want"

"To have your friends die for the sake of a madman?" Creed's question stopped Train's lecture in its tracks and made Sephiria frown all the more. This was and wasn't the man who led the Hoshi no Shito. There was madness here, certainly, but it was a transformed madness. A madness that seemed to recognize itself and – amazingly – in that recognition, command itself. "Train. You mean the world to me. But what I feel towards you doesn't mean obeying every one of your commands. It can't mean that. Can't mean letting you stick your hand into a hornets' nest, especially when I'm the one the hornets want. When I'm the one who set them off in the first place. Please. I'm asking you. Let it go."

Train's expression darkened and for a moment Sephiria thought he'd refuse. Then he turned away. "Do what you want, then. You don't belong to me," he said in a voice so controlled that it might have been interpreted as furious.

Despite Train's apparent anger, however, Creed's dark eyes softened and he smiled sweetly at Train's back, expression strangely happy. "I knew you'd understand," he whispered. "Thank you." He forced himself to his feet, glancing around the floor momentarily until he found his slippers and looking at Sephiria. "Outside, you said?"

Creed limped down the path towards a sitting area near the house and let himself slump into one of the chairs that surrounded the picnic table. "I'd apologize for not being more formal, but I really don't think I need to be right now. Besides, I doubt I have the energy." He dropped his chin onto his folded arms, staring straight ahead at the ill-tended backyard.

The woman who once commanded him and Train stared down at him with that peculiar expression that he was getting used to being the cause of, even if he didn't understand why. Then, silently, she drew her saber, aiming it at him calmly. "I will permit you to defend yourself."

Shaking his head, Creed just stared forward. "No," he answered after a long moment. "I won't go with you so that you can study me or my nano-machines, but I won't fight you. You can kill me, if that's what you want."

"And if I send for my men? Do you expect to fight us off? Do you think we couldn't take you alive if we chose to?"

Lips curled into a slight smile of amusement, Creed replied. "You wouldn't have time to call them. Much of my heart is formed of the nano-machines now. All I have to do is tell them to stop working and," he made a sharp gesture, fingers spreading in a single sharp movement to suggest an explosion, "I'm dead."

Sephiria paced agitatedly, sword still in hand. "I'm not terribly interested in your nano-machines. Frankly the things give me the creeps," she told him a moment of candor that Creed recognized as being due more to her anxiety over the situation than any respect she might have for him. "All right then. I'll kill you."

"That's fine." Creed straightened, staring forward and watched the flow of light on the weed infested grass. He held himself still. _I won't even feel it,_ he reassured himself._ Sephiria's too good. Too fast_. A tear slid down his cheek as he whispered, "I hope someone remembers to do something about this lawn." As he spoke a delicate pain sliced past his throat and he flinched slightly. "Since when do you miss your target, Sephiria?" Her blow ought to have taken off his head. Instead it had barely kissed the skin.

As Creed wiped the blood from his cut away, Sephiria sat heavily in the chair across from him. "Why?" There was a plaintive note to her voice.

"Well, isn't it obvious? It's a mess. Weeds everywhere, overgrown wasn't that the question?" Creed blinked at the woman, whose expression had taken on a pained note.

"No, Creed. That was _not_ the question. I want to know why you're not fighting me. I want to know why you're letting me kill you – when you so obviously want to live. I want to know why you beat Balder and Krantz but let them live. I want to know why you haven't been leading the Hoshi no Shito, even though it's still in operation." There was a world of frustration in the woman's voice.

"Train."

"What?" Sephiria simply stared at Creed for a long moment. "You're telling me that you've been doing all this for Train?" She shook her head. "Why?"

"A many splendored thing," Creed leaned back and gazed up at the sky, the azure color suiting his mood. If he was not entirely at peace, if Train did not love him as he loved Train, he knew this much, Train cared, would be sorry that he was gone – at least a little bit. It had been clear, from the stiff angry posture to the irrational attempts to protect Creed from the consequences of his own actions. _Thank you for that small grace, at least._

For a moment Sephiria thought she might kill Creed, not because he had killed her people, not because he'd betrayed Chronos, not because he had tried to take over the world, but, _because he is the most irritating little bastard I have ever known._ "_WHAT_ are you talking about!" She glared at the man smiling beatifically at the sky.

"April roses," Creed answered with a puzzled expression that said he had absolutely no idea why she was irritated. "Thirteen of them."

Taking a very deep breath helped. It helped too to remember the report she'd read and re-read about Creed, both the Creed Diskence who had first joined Chronos to the Creed Diskence in front of her. _He isn't doing it on purpose,_ she reminded herself. _He doesn't even realize he's doing it._ His training had been intended to overcome the strange defocused behavior that had put him in that first asylum, and it had succeeded. Now, however, he appeared to have relapsed.

_All right. The Creed prior to his training used media references to communicate. So what media reference mentions splendored things _and_ April ros Oh shit._ Sephiria stared at Creed. "YOU _LOVE_ HIM?"

"It's like rain on your wedding day." Creed answered, smiling bleakly as his eyes drifted off to gaze at something in the grass. "Such a pretty color. Just like his eyes, isn't it?" he added, pointing at a broken bottle that someone had trashed, the deep amber yellow glittering in the sunlight.

_Another deep breath. You should have known. Train as much as said so. I didn't realize what he meant when he said 'imprinted'._ "Does Train know?" she asked in a quieter voice.

"Yes," Creed said, with amazingly direct simplicity and – for a brief moment – she saw his eyes focus as he turned to look back at the house. "He knows," the white-haired man added, wistfully, an aching sorrow in his tone. "He doesn't love me in return, but he knows."

_I still don't understand why Train took Creed in, especially if he knows about this strange obsession, but at least now I understand why _Creed_ is doing what he's doing. Train made him quit the Hoshi. Train put him in that sanitarium. Train wants him to get well. I'm not sure if it's some twisted plan to have him fully sane before the Black Cat kills him or if Train has somehow forgiven him, but that has to be what's happening._ Sephiria realized that the pale man in front of her had given up quite a bit in order to win what favors Train was willing to grant. He'd also risked his life, trying to please Train. She understood now why Balder and Krantz were alive. Train wouldn't have wanted Creed to kill them, so – despite the incredible danger to himself – Creed had not. _Kyoko all over again only three times as bad. She, at least, believed Train would protect her and there was no one to help Creed. What does Train _do_ to them? _

Realizing that Sephiria was taking a terribly long time to make up her mind, Creed forced himself to focus enough to ask, "What are you going to do?"

"It makes no sense to kill you. Aside from vengeance, that is. Naizer would want it. A few of the others. Balder and Krantz would like to stuff you head first into a toilet and drown you. After, of course, beating you to a pulp." Sephiria shook her head, suspecting that the two men would probably get even more creative in their vengeance than that. Creed had embarrassed them badly. "But vengeance isn't how _I_ operate. I have to obey the Masters to a certain extent, but I also have to make choices that will do the least harm to Chronos. I kill you and I've made Train my enemy for the rest of his life."

"No, you wouldn't want that. Not my Train," Creed agreed, and felt himself wanting to drift off in rapt contemplation of his beloved, even though doing so bothered Train almost as much as his old homicidal mania. "More to the point, I suppose, killing me and upsetting Train enough to cause you trouble only shifts the balance in your favor if I still posed a threat, is that it?"

"How do you do that?" Sephiria's puzzled question was accompanied by a deep frown. "You wander around from topic to topic but you still have the sense to figure out what's going on in my head?"

Shrugging, Creed replied, "I'm insane. I'm _not_ stupid. It's just that I can't think clearly most of the time. The part of my brain analyzing the situation is sitting back in the shadows and what's left up front," he indicated his forehead, reminding Sephiria of the damage inflicted on certain important parts of the frontal lobe, "has to make do with what it can. Every so often the back part of the mind manages to push a thought through. Like right now. But I have to strain for it, so don't expect much more sense out of me."

"Where are the Hoshi?" From her tone, it didn't seem that Sephiria had much hope of a useful answer.

"Going to and fro about the world and up and down upon it." Creed shrugged, "I left them to their own devices. I didn't force them to join me and I certainly didn't force them to be your enemies. That – Number One – is entirely Chronos' doing." He giggled as he added, "The fault lies not in my Stars, but in yourselves."

After a long, silent, minute, Sephiria sighed. "Go inside. Tell Train to come out here."

As Train stepped out into the warm late afternoon sunlight, he scanned the backyard for Sephiria, finding her standing looking down at a dying rose bush. "He's right about this garden," she commented quietly. "It needs better tending."

"It's not like any of us are gardeners." Train walked up to join her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So."

"So." Sephiria turned her eyes on Train. "When you said he was imprinted on you do you have any idea just _how_ imprinted? He says you do, but."

Rolling his eyes, Train dropped onto a nearby bench and grimaced. "Yes. I know. He says he's in love with me."

"This doesn't bother you?"

A sigh escaped Train's chest as he gazed off at the sky. "It did," he admitted. "Still does, a bit."

"Then why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm the Black Cat and I don't do anything – even vengeance – the way I'm supposed to." Train turned his eyes on Chronos' leader and grinned. "You were wrong, y'know. Saya doesn't need me to redeem her by killing him. She'd want me to do it my own way."

"Still."

"I admit, even for me, this is the weirdest vengeance ever. I don't usually care if I fix something broken, but this time, it matters." _Maybe because I'm the one who did the breaking. At least the last bit. _

Sephiria sat on the bench opposite and cocked her head at Train. "So, you fix him – if it's even _possible_ to fix him – and then you break him again? That doesn't seem your style."

Train shook his head. "No. I fix him, then I let him go, if that's what he wants, though I doubt he ever will. Besides, do you really think I _can_ fix him? I don't know much about his past, but I do know he's brain damaged. Messed up in the head to the point that the best he can hope for are work arounds."

"I know that much from his records. I still don't know why the man in charge of training chose him. I'd ask, but I'm afraid he left us some time back Permanently. He was one of the ones Creed killed on the way out of the compound." Sephiria shrugged. "Very well. Creed really is hopeless at this point. He obviously isn't leading the Hoshi and he can't help us find them. If you weren't protecting him I'd have him executed in a heartbeat."

As Train's lips tightened and he felt sharp anger at her, Sephiria raised a brow. "He's a mad animal, Train. I have my doubts that you can ever achieve anything with him. However, he's _your_ mad animal. I won't interfere. Maybe you're right. Maybe you can find a way that will keep him from being a danger to everyone around him." She hesitated. "Certainly his feelings towards you seem to be enough to keep him from killing out of hand."

"Yeah," Train agreed, grinning wryly. "I'm his safety lock."

Sephiria continued. "You can put him back in that asylum if you want. Or keep him here. Let him go, however, and all bets are off. As long as he is under your protection, as long as he's under your _control_, he's safe from Chronos. Otherwise."

"Otherwise you blow him away. I understand that." Train nodded. "I'll hold the information I've found, Sephiria. As security, if you will. If anything happens to him _anything_ I'll use it."

"Understood." She rose to her feet. "Then I'll be going."

Sven watched Creed as he stood in front of the fireplace and gazed into the empty grate, eyes as fascinated as they would have been if there had been a fire burning. A thin, slowly fading, white line that hadn't been there before stood out even against the pallor of the madman's throat and his dark eyes seemed almost blank.

_If I thought for a minute I'd get a useful answer I'd ask him what happened,_ Sven thought. It wasn't worth the attempt, though. From the way Creed had entered, ten minutes earlier, it was clear his mind wasn't operating on even close to normal levels. Focusing wasn't something the man did easily and whatever had happened out there with Sephiria had taken up the last of his reserves.

Hearing the door open, Sven turned to watch Train enter. Creed turned as well, dark eyes impassive as he eyed the man who had once been his partner and who was now – in essence – his keeper. Train glanced at the three waiting in the living room, grinned wryly and dropped into a chair. "Sephiria's gone home."

"To get reinforcements?" Sven couldn't help asking.

"Nah. He can stay here, or at the asylum. She's decided that killing Creed's currently not worth the bother. Vengeance aside, it won't stop the Hoshi from causing trouble."

"Thunder, lightning and rain," Creed murmured.

"Huh?" Sven stared at the man and it was Eve's murmured "Macbeth. Three witches. The heath scene," that explained the reference. "Man, I wish you'd find another way of expressing yourself," he continued.

"You would prefer bright sharp shiny objects?" Creed asked, one dark eye wide and innocent, the other still hidden behind the patch Sven had loaned him.

Train groaned. "Give it a rest, you two."

"Yes, Train," Creed whispered, submissively. "So what are you going to do with me? Send me back to the asylum?"

There was, Sven realized, something very tense and frightened about the way Creed was watching Train. Something that anticipated pain. Anticipated a hurt that had to be borne.

Eying Creed for a long moment, Train shook his head. "No. I said you were staying here and I meant it."

"Train," Sven protested. "If there's no real reason why he shouldn't go back then I don't see a reason why he should stay." He glared at his shrugging partner, meaning to continue, but a sudden motion from Creed's position made him glance the madman's way. "Aww, crap." He leapt forward as Creed pitched headlong towards the coffee table.

Train couldn't move fast enough. He was across the room from Creed, mainly to avoid any chance of Creed's forgetting himself and embracing him, and he realized his mistake. Creed had been operating on a very thin edge for the last day and a half. Emotionally fraught, exhausted to the point of hysteria, relief from the tension over whether Train would change his mind must have been too much for the madman to take.

It was a very real faint. Train knew that much from the graceless way Creed fell. His knees had simply given way and he'd fallen face forward without even trying to stop himself. Had it been up to Creed he would have swooned with all the grandeur of a southern belle dropping into her lover's arms. He certainly wouldn't have fallen when Train wasn't in a position to catch him and Sven was. _Especially not when Sven would be the one catching him. _

"Is he all right?" Train asked, getting up and watching Sven lower the white-haired madman to the floor.

"No, of course he isn't. He's stark raving insane," Sven snapped. "But he didn't hurt himself, if that's what you're asking." He glanced down at the man sprawled on the floor and for a moment a flash of pity crossed the older man's face. "Guess he couldn't take anymore, silly little cuss."

As Sven picked Creed up, the madman moaned. "Don't want you. Want Train." His hand moved, stretched out momentarily in Train's direction, then was withdrawn hurriedly. "Sorry sorry"

"Never mind what you want. What you _need_ is some rest and more food in you," Sven growled, putting Creed on the couch with exaggerated gentleness. "We'll worry about figuring out where you can sleep later. The couch will do for now."

Train was relieved. This was going to be difficult enough as it was. Sven and Creed were almost naturally antagonistic. _I think they would be even if I wasn't a bone of contention._ It wasn't so much that Sven had feelings towards Train at all similar to Creed's. Rather it was that Train was Sven's partner and the older man had a strongly protective streak.

Fortunately, without trying, Creed may have managed to touch that protectiveness. Sven might not like him, might fear Creed's insanities, but he also recognized something broken and lost. They'd fight, Train thought. Would probably always be pissing at each other, but Sven understood one important point. Creed was simply too damaged to make it on his own. _I'm not sure he ever will be able to. But I started this. I got myself into it. If I want out there's only one other way and I can't do it._ It came as something of a surprise to Train to realize that – without his ever intending it to happen – Creed had managed to create a small opening in his heart. Not love. Never love, he was sure, but an odd sort of caring that meant that he couldn't have killed the man now unless it became clear Creed had gone entirely over the edge into murderous insanity.

_So he's mine now. I didn't mean it. I never wanted it. But he's my responsibility. I don't know what will happen but I'm going to see this through. Somehow._

To Be Continued....


	14. The Intruder Within

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 dashes (---) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE INTRUDER WITHIN

_September 3, 2003 _

A sweet breeze blew over Creed's face, carrying the scent of new-mown hay. High above, frail clouds skidded across the face of the half-moon, its light dimming, then brightening, as they passed.

To say that Creed was thinking would probably be a misnomer. _Inaccurate. Floating with the moon,_ he thought, drifting along, bouncing one foot, leg crossed over the other, arms beneath his head as he lay on the rooftop. It was nice here. Cool and pleasant, with no noise from Sven's radio, no bright light interfering with his rest. He was recovering from the fight, was almost there really, but sometimes it all just seemed too much.

Those thoughts drifted away lightly as he tried to force his imagination to see a black cat dancing amid the clouds. Even he couldn't stretch those fluffy delicate strands into a feline shape though and he gave up, closing his eyes and sighing, contented despite himself.

Then something was blocking what little light there was and he opened his eyes to find a pair of dark amber ones looking at him. In the dim light they simply seemed brownish, but he didn't need light to know their color.

"I thought I might find you here. Sven's having a fit, you know. He thinks you ran off."

Creed smirked. "Yes, well, only Sven would think I'd run away from you." He wanted to reach up, to touch that face, but he refrained, contenting himself with a tender smile as he gazed up at Train. "It was too loud too hot."

"Yeah. I remembered you used to do this when we were partners." Train moved to sit beside Creed. "You okay there?"

Creed glanced down at his bare foot, planted on the surface of the roof and pretty much the only thing keeping him from sliding down. "I'm safe enough," he reassured Train. "The house is only two and a half stories anyway."

Train glanced sideways at Creed, making sure the pale-haired man's assessment was accurate. Sven would probably disagree, but he thought Creed would be okay laying there. Train had seen him hang out on much more precarious surfaces, after all. _Besides, the roof's pretty rough. I don't think he'd slide down easily._ At last he just said, "Don't fall asleep, though. The way you toss and turn you'd fall straight off." Train shook his head. The last few nights their sleep had been broken frequently by the sound of their new housemate's rolling right off the couch where he slept. They'd finally given up and had him sleep on the floor.

"I wish I _could_ sleep here," Creed answered plaintively. "It's so much nicer than downstairs."

"Won't be all that wonderful when it starts raining." Train pointed towards the clouds scudding across the horizon with a wry expression.. "But never mind that." He leaned back, watching the skies in companionable silence. At last, however, he had to ask, "How are you doing?"

"Still hurt a lot. My eye especially. I feel a bit like the bionic man." Creed's tone was light, though Train thought he caught an undertone of sadness. "Still scared. I just don't know about all this."

Train nodded. "I can't blame you. Creed – if you think I'm being high-handed. If you don't really want to be here I won't insist."

"I _want_ to be here," Creed whispered very softly. "I am just afraid. So very afraid of losing what little of you I have. When it was a weekly visit. When it was only a few hours in a week, I could be sure that I could control myself – or at least better certain."

That puzzled Train. "Control yourself? I thought part of the point of your 'cure' was _not_ to control." He didn't fully understand the theory behind Doctor Jones' treatment, but it had seemed to be working. A Creed allowed to drift in a blissful ocean of nonsense was a much happier and stable Creed than a Creed forced to act like everybody else. _Okay. Stable isn't really the right word, but it's the closest I can come. _

Creed smiled wryly. "Not that kind of control. The impulses that make me want to hurt people or things aren't the same as the impulse that makes me want to leap into your arms and demand you have your way with me." He glanced Train's way and winced at something he seemed to see in his beloved's face. "You see? Here I am messing up again."

Train was almost more troubled by the fact that he didn't feel even the ghost of his usual going-to-run-like-blazes-now feeling that he used to get when Creed talked about loving him. "It doesn't bother me that you feel you want to do that. As long as you don't."

"That's just it. I get all emotional. It's part of who I am, I think. Part of what I am." Creed's tone was musing. "A part of me is like those girls who threw themselves at the Beatles, or Elvis. It wants your attention. It wants you so badly that it's an ache inside me. I don't mind the pain, but I'm afraid that I might upset you with it. That I might turn you against me." He closed his eyes. "Intellectually I know it bothers you. Emotionally I want you so much."

Train considered that. "Creed, I can't promise that you couldn't turn me against you. But it won't happen simply because you're in love with me. I've given up on the idea of making you _stop_ loving me. As long as no one's hurting to the point of killing – or dying – over it, I'll deal with it. Right now, though, you're someone who matters to me in a way I don't think I could explain."

Creed smiled up at Train. "I'm your pet Doberman. The one you picked up in an alley somewhere, bleeding and dying. The one that worships at your feet and loves you to the point that I'd do anything for you, no matter what it meant to me. The one who isn't safe around children or other animals. The one you like because you pity it. The one you take care of because you took it in and it would pine and die if you threw it back out."

"Damn you're good with the hyperbole," Train sighed. "It's not _that_ bad. It's not like I can't trust you around Eve. Even around Sven, I think. Though I have a feeling you two are going to drive _me_ into the asylum if you don't learn to get along."

"I'm sorry I" Creed struggled to find the words he needed and Train patted him on the shoulder, shaking his head.

"Creed." Train's eyes were gentle as he looked down. "I don't ask you two to stop entirely. I almost think you need an outlet for your bad temper. Since you can't let it go in the ways you're used to, you need someone to be nasty to. Just – both of you, please – try not to do it every minute of every day."

Creed nodded slowly. "I'll try if he will."

"Deal." Train gazed up at the moon again. "I want you to be happy here, Creed. I want you to feel comfortable living here. If you aren't, say so and we'll find a solution. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." Train lifted a hand, feeling the first drops on his skin. "Then may I suggest that your future happiness depends in part on getting inside? Remember what I said earlier about rain? You do _not_ want to know what Eve will say if you get soaking wet again when you've barely recovered from that fight. Dunno if the nano-machines would let you catch a cold, but let's not test the theory."

"I don't suppose you've even thought about where he's going to sleep?" Sven leaned back from the dining table and wiped fried chicken grease off his hands and mouth. Fast food again – Sven wasn't sure if Eve had inherited her clone mother's lack of cooking skills but her disinclination to try at least meant less burns for himself. "It's not like he can stay in the living room for the duration. I'm tired of listening to the crash landings, anyway."

"You could always build me a doghouse," Creed murmured, slicing chicken meat away from the bone with a delicate touch. He was too fastidious to eat even fried chicken the way one was supposed to, with one's hands. "This can't possibly be healthy," he added, frowning at the amount of grease on his plate.

Sven decided to ignore Creed's food complaints. He grumbled about food choices every time they sat down to eat, after all. "Or maybe the basem" Before he could get the word out, Creed had dropped his fork and had sat up straight, knife trembling in his right hand, his other hand clutching the arm of his chair, cracking the wood. His face was impossible to see, hidden beneath a curtain of white. "What the hell?" Sven demanded. _God. Is he going to lose it?_

" Not bad not bad not not not"

Train and Eve both frowned, and Train put his hand on Creed's shoulder. "What is it?"

" non" Creed descended into a peculiarly accented French that Sven couldn't have made out even if he'd spoken the basic language quite a bit better than he did. He didn't need to, though, to recognize sheer panic.

"Creed. No basement. If it bothers you this much you don't have to be there."

Somehow Sven couldn't help but mutter, "It's a finished basement. There's no reason it couldn't be used." The sound Creed made, helpless and frightened, made him wince. _That was a stupid thing to say._ "Creed, snap out of it. You don't have to be in the basement. I'll just move my office downstairs and you can take that over."

"No _You're_ not bad. No. Shouldn't." Creed raised his eyes, face so white that it nearly matched his pale hair. "I'll I'll go I'll"

Sven shook his head sharply. "I am _not_ going to have you playing martyr," he growled, though the real reason was that he couldn't possibly expect someone obviously traumatized by the thought to sleep somewhere that scared him so much. "Besides, you'd be howling like a lost puppy all night."

Very slowly, Creed felt himself relax. At last he looked at Train ruefully. "You know the worst of it?" he whispered haltingly and Train gave him a curious look. "The worst of it is that I have no idea where that came from." A quiet little old voice, gentle and kindly, was speaking in his ear in French. _ The horrible little boy spent the rest of his life in the basement, with the spiders, in the cold, wet, damp, never to see the sunlight again. _

"What?" Train asked, puzzled, and Creed realized he's muttered the words aloud. "You know I only speak standard French, Creed."

"I know," Creed agreed, trembling. "It was nothing. Never mind. The corners of my mind."

"Such as it is," Sven muttered and Creed felt a sharp relief at a return to normalcy. Being sniped at by Sven was much better than that look of near pity that had crossed the older man's face.

Train sighed, glad that the crisis seemed averted. He remembered Creed's reaction when the Hoshi had proposed locking Train up in the basement. This was part of the same fear, a terror Creed couldn't deal with. "All right. We can't use the you know where" he said. "So let's see. We have the living room and kitchen downstairs, four bedrooms upstairs, three being used by someone and the fourth is our office." He shook his head. "We may _have_ to build you a doghouse, Creed."

"With bone wallpaper?" Creed asked, smiling weakly, causing Train to frown, confused by whatever reference it was that had found its way through the labyrinth of Creed's mind. _Media of some sort. I can see I'm going to have to start watching old movies and stuff, just so I can translate. _

"Train, that still leaves us having to build," Sven said with exaggerated patience. "And it seems a bit much to build a whole house just for Creed. We don't have that kind of money."

"I would have thought you were the type to save," Creed answered, cocking his head at Sven.

Sven glanced at Train with a wry expression. "Yeah, except somebody's collateral damage keeps needing paid for. If he ever paid attention to my plans we wouldn't be perpetually low on funds."

Blinking sweetly at Sven, Creed answered in a perky voice that Train knew wasn't intended to be irritating, but was. "But Sven, Train never pays attention to plans. You just have to plan for it."

Sven looked about to explode, then paused. "That," he said finally, "hurts my head, especially when I have the sneaking suspicion you're right. The fact remains. We can't afford to build a house for you. We barely managed to pay for this one. It's not like you can live in a real doghouse. It'd have to be heated and air-conditioned. It'd need power, and it'd have to be livable."

"Why?" Creed asked, puzzled, apparently unable to understand why his comfort mattered. Train winced inwardly, wondering what it was that made Creed expect so little care from those around him.

"Because. I don't like you but – despite your best efforts – you're a human being, Creed. I don't make humans live like dogs. No matter how willing they are to do so." Sven rolled his eyes at Creed's confused expression. "We aren't doing it, Creed. Damn, this would be so much easier if you'd accept moving my office."

Creed felt himself starting to fade again, but Train's hand on his shoulder drew him back. "Don't think about it. If it bothers you that much it isn't going to happen."

"Train? Sven?" Eve spoke up. "We could put him on the back porch as a temporary measure. It's enclosed and – at least until winter – it should be comfortable enough. We'll have to put up curtains, but that's easy to do."

"And what do we do when winter comes around?" Sven asked. "You say temporary, so what's the permanent solution? Aside from hanging him from a flagpole?"

"No one would salute," Creed muttered, giggling at the image in his head. It reminded him entirely too much of what he'd done to Balder and that was a memory he would treasure the rest of his life.

Eve rolled her eyes and pointed upstairs. "The attic. We could move all the stuff to you know where – not that there's much anyway – and finish it. It would still cost money, but the problem of heating and cooling would be resolved."

"It'd get pretty hot up there," Sven pointed out.

"I can do some research, try and find ways to make it comfortable. People have lived in garrets happily for years."

Sven frowned. "Still leaves the question of where are we getting the money for this?"

"I have money," Creed answered, shrugging. "If you insist that I have to have all these creature comforts then use it."

"Your money is stolen. It really should get returned."

Creed shook his head. "Not that money. Eve already took care of that over half a year ago," he said, mildly annoyed. "I have money of my own. She found the account. I'd forgotten about it." That had been a surprise. Apparently he'd had family once. A very rich family. "No, not forgotten. One of the things they wiped. She used my fingerprints for identification."

"There _is_ quite a bit," Eve added. "More than enough to rebuild the attic. Not to mention buy him a real wardrobe."

Startled, Creed glanced at Eve, then down at himself. Most of his clothing in the last week had been borrowed from Train. He and Train were the same height, but Train's torso was somewhat longer, where much of Creed's height was in his legs. The result was very long T-shirts draped over his skinny frame and too short pants. If the clothes had belonged to anyone else, _say Sven_, he would have been disgusted by the effect. _Still. New clothing would be nice. So very nice._

Sven frowned at the peculiar look on Creed's face, an expression that looked like the little madman was contemplating something pleasurable. Something, that little devil inside himself, made him say, "Why? I've got plenty of spare clothing. He's a bit small but."

"Now that's just cruelty. Send me back to the asylum now please! Your eye-patch was bad enough." Creed exclaimed. "I don't mind wearing Train's stuff, if you don't want to spend my money, but I'd rather go naked than wear _your_ clothes. I don't think you've bothered to hang anything up in your life. What do you do? Live out of a laundry basket?"

Sven glared at Train, who was sniggering, but internally he felt almost as amused as his partner. The loony tune was annoying and aggravating, but there was a certain satisfaction in being able to pull the man's chain so easily. "Well, Beau, not everyone can be a fashion plate," he answered in a complacent tone.

"There's a difference between not being a fashion plate and being a disaster area of Biblical proportions," Creed grumbled back.

"Not Biblical, surely," Eve protested. "He's bad, but"

"All right, not that bad, but, _lord_, he isn't good."

Train burst out laughing at the expression on Sven's face. "Et tu, Eve?"

"'Tis not so deep as a well, but tis enough, t'will do," Creed answered, face partially obscured by his hair as he gazed down at his plate, but a small smile curving his lips showed he was enjoying himself.

As the banter continued, Sven watched his partner's charge closely, testing reactions, testing for some sign of the old madness, of the blood-thirsty killer that he _knew_ still inhabited Creed's head. It didn't show itself, and Sven wasn't sure if he was sorry or relieved. Sorry, because Creed showing his true colors would prove to Train that this plan wasn't going to work. Relieved because he knew how strongly his partner _wanted_ it to work. _And why do I have this odd feeling Creed does too?_

---__

_September 4, 2003 _

Stretching, Creed lay staring up at the ceiling of the patio, listening to the soft sound of the fan. The breeze was warm, but pleasant on his bare skin and he remained quiet, reveling in the first morning he'd woken without something hurting. At last, though, he felt a strong need to get up. There was too much energy in his system and he needed something to do.

_The garden? No, Sven said yesterday that they don't have any of the tools I'll need. I could use my hand, but this is too public a setting._ He knew that – by now – Chronos knew his left arm had been transformed, but he didn't want to make its full capabilities too obvious. _Heh. Wonder if they realize that every injury they've given me has made me stronger?_

Leaning on the window sill to admire the pre-dawn skies, Creed noticed something in the distance, a faint reflection amid the trees. He grinned, right eye focusing in on the spot until he sighted the source. A man in black, up a tree and watching the house with binoculars. _Speaking of Chronos._ He smiled at the man, waving and had the pleasure of watching the spy nearly fall out of the tree. "Oops. Sorry about that." He wasn't sure his room was bugged, but he knew Chronos. The silly fools would be watching him for the rest of his life, most likely.

Putting on his robe, or rather Train's robe and a pair of pajama pants, he sauntered through the house to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. As he sat down he considered his situation. _A healthy body certainly affects the attitude,_ he thought cheerfully. This was the first time he'd contemplated Train's plans for him and not felt frightened, lost and out of control. _And _that_ is a state devoutly to be grateful for._ He couldn't claim perfect calm, but much of the strain had lessened. It wouldn't take much to drop him back into the confusion and desperation, however. _It's up to me to keep out of that trap. I can't ask Train to keep dragging me back onto my feet._

Looking around the kitchen, Creed frowned. The last week had been spent concentrating on getting better and on balancing on the razor edge of fear and elation. Now that he'd recovered enough to bother looking he realized what an absolute _mess_ the place was.

For a long silent moment Creed considered the muddle, finishing his coffee. Then he got up and set to work.

Sven yawned as he stumbled downstairs. _Coffee. Must have coffee._ He had a lot of work to do. Going over Creed's account, trying to make sure it really was the loony tune's money. Selecting their next job and planning the attack. _Not that it ever does much good. Creed's right about that much, even if _is_ enough to set my head spinning working out his logic._ He shook his head, then came to a halt at the sound of metal striking metal.

Cautiously, Sven moved towards the sound, tensing as he wondered what could possibly be going on. Chronos attacking after all? The Hoshi? Creed? Looking through the doorway confirmed that it was an attack of sorts. An attack on the kitchen itself, on the detritus and grease that accumulated when two men and a girl who didn't know much better were left to handle the housework. It might have been stereotypical of the two of them, but neither Train nor Sven were much good at cleaning.

Creed was bent over the stove, a wet paper towel in hand as he worked at the worst spots. Splattered food, grease. Nothing horrible – even Sven couldn't have put up with too thick a layer of dirt – but the difference between the cleaned area and what was left was amazing.

"There's coffee in the pot. I'll start a new one when you finish that up," Creed said without turning around. "And stop staring like that, Sven. Haven't you ever seen someone clean up? Then again, looking at this place, strike the question."

"You don't have to do that," Sven protested, going to the pot and filling a cup. "It's not that bad."

"Yes I do and yes it is," Creed disagreed. "You need better cleaning supplies too. I don't suppose there's a chance I could get you to buy some stuff? Seeing as I'm housebound?"

Sven heated up his coffee and sat down before he answered. "It isn't necessary for _you_ to clean up," he reiterated. "It's our responsibility, not yours."

"Why not?" Creed stood up straight and eyed Sven, expression amazingly clear and focused. Sven realized that this was one of Creed's rare moments of clarity and figured he'd better enjoy it. Though this conversation didn't seem to be going any better than any of their other ones. "I live here too, don't I?"

"Yeah, but you're a." Sven stopped dead, realizing what he was about to say. _That he's a guest. Even now I don't want him here, do I?_

Creed shook his head. "Thought so. If I become part of the household. If I act like I belong here, it means I'm not going to dry up and blow away, doesn't it?"

"It's not like that," Sven protested. "Okay, so I'd prefer you were gone. I don't trust you, Creed. I don't trust anything about you."

"Still mad about the church incident?" Creed asked lightly.

Sven's left eye narrowed. This was a conversation they were going to have to have, Creed realized. Best to do it while he was able to think relatively straight. Such times were few and far between, after all. He sat down across from the man, waiting.

"No. That was over a year ago," Sven answered, though not as certainly as he might have. After a moment he continued, "Not mad about it. Frightened by it. Frightened by you. Satisfied?"

Creed shrugged. "I can't exactly blame you. I _did_ hurt you, after all. But, right now I'm a challenge to you. A rival, perhaps."

"Huh? You don't think Train and I are lovers, do you?" Sven looked outraged at the suggestion.

"No," Creed answered after a moment's thought. "Not that sort of challenge. Not that sort of rival. You love him as a brother, I think. You want to keep him safe because he's a close friend. And I am _not_ safe to have around."

Sven glowered. "Damn right you're not. You're trouble with a capital T."

"That rhymes with C and that spells Creed," Creed couldn't help saying.

"What?" Sven's expression became puzzled, then light dawned as he seemed to get the reference. "Damn but I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Can't help it. Ingrained response. Unless you want me to go back to my bad old days you're just going to have to put up with it. It's partly the effort to act normal that made me what I was." Creed shook his head. "Never mind that. It's not just that I'm trouble. I'm a complication in a family unit that's obviously formed between the three of you. I threaten the balance. I'm a challenge to your position."

"My position. What the hell do you mean?"

"You're practically head of household here," Creed pointed out quietly as he looked at his hands. "You're putting up with my presence for the moment but only because someone you care about is asking you to. You're afraid that if forced to choose between the status quo and myself, he might choose me."

"Now that's just silly. Train is unpredictable, but I can't see him dropping us entirely in _your_ favor."

Creed cocked his head at the man. "Then why does my presence bother you? If I turned out to be a threat after all, don't you think he'd get rid of me?" He felt a sharp surge of unhappiness at the thought and his lips tightened around the pain. _Please, Train. Don't ever send me away. Kill me first, but don't shove me out of Eden. I can't take it again._

It was with a sudden sharp moment of understanding that Sven realized how badly frightened Creed was of leaving. _And why shouldn't he be? He's been offered a chance to be close to the one he loves. He must be terrified of destroying his hopes._ It bothered Sven a bit still to think of Creed being in love with Train, but he had to admit to its reality. _What a sad thing,_ he thought, pityingly. _To love someone so desperately, so utterly, that nothing matters beyond keeping that one happy._

Something in Sven's expression must have shown his feelings, for Creed got up and went back to the stove, growling, "Don't you _dare_ pity me, Sven Volfeed. I don't want pity. Not from anyone and especially not from _you_." His hands moved rapidly over the stove's surface as he scrubbed. "I love him. I will, I think, always love him. Even if he _never_ loves me in return he's given me a gift I don't think I can ever repay. Especially considering what I've done _to_ him in the name of that love."

Sven knew Creed was talking about Saya, but he kept his silence, sensing that Creed needed to talk. To say things that he dared not say to Train. He watched the white haired man stop, leaning on the stove. "I want to do the right thing here, Sven. I want to prove his trust in me is well founded. I don't deserve it, but I want to earn it. I _need_ to fit in. I know I'm not very useful. I can't go out on jobs for you and I don't have any other skills to speak of."

"Unless commanding a host of insane Taoists counts," Sven couldn't help saying.

"It doesn't," Creed sighed. "I only wish it did. But that's part of our problem, isn't it, Sven? We're both used to being in command. Both used to being in control. I'm losing that. The further my old problem progresses, the less and less often my mind is going to be able to focus like this. The more confused and confusing I'm going to be. I don't mind not really," he added, wistfully, "but it means I'm useless for anything that requires long-term thinking."

Creed turned and eyed the kitchen. "On the other hand, it takes little focus or concentration for me to clean. That comes naturally." He shrugged at Sven's expression. "I _like_ keeping things clean. I'll take care of the house. Take care of the garden. I'll be a good boy, Sven. Or at least I'll try." He paused and added, "If I fail. If I hurt anyone here you can kill me."

Sven stared at the man, a chill running up his spine as he watched the sweet little smile that always unnerved him about Creed. "Why do you have to grin like that?" he had to ask.

"I don't understand," Creed said softly, plaintively. "What's wrong with my smile? I'm just trying to reassure you that I don't want to cause trouble here."

It suddenly hit Sven that Creed had absolutely no idea that he was being scary when he smiled like that. That he had no idea the child-like expression on his adult face made it seem as if he were mocking the one he was smiling at. _Poor jerk hasn't got a clue,_ Sven realized. "Creed, there are things that children do that simply don't work for adults. Going all sweetness and light like that, especially when saying things like 'you can kill me', makes other adults uncomfortable. Even a little scared of you."

A sad expression crossed Creed's face and it occurred to Sven that every emotion Creed felt seemed to reflect on his features with the easy readiness of a little boy. "I can't help it," Creed whispered.

"Yeah. I think I'm beginning to realize that." Sven shook his head. "Okay, look, I'm not going to kill you unless you hurt someone. If you do I'll keep your request in mind."

Creed nodded almost shyly and Sven continued. "In the meantime, as far as going out goes, why do you say you're housebound?"

"I just thought."

"There's no reason you can't go into town, as long as someone's with you. Train could take you. Chronos has closed your file with the Sweepers – even put a warning out that you're to be left alone – so no one's going to be trying to take you in, after all. You need new clothing. You may as well get the rest of what you need, too. Just let me go over that account of yours."

"Eh?" Creed was obviously puzzled.

"It's not that I don't trust Eve, but I don't know that I trust you the old you enough to be sure that account really should be yours. You're not even sure where it came from. So I'm going to go over it with a fine tooth comb. If it really is all yours we'll use it for your clothing and for fixing up your room. Anything that's for you only can come out of that account for the moment. Household repairs and clean-up we'll share. Though I think the first few months had better be our responsibility only, seeing as how you apparently have a lot of catching up to do."

If Sven thought Creed's earlier smile was sweet and too bright for words, this one nearly blinded him.

To Be Continued....


	15. Shop Till You Drop

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 ampersands(&&&) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

SHOP TILL YOU DROP

_September 7, 2003 _

"I just don't believe this."

Creed looked up from his exercises at Sven, who was coming downstairs with a stunned expression on his face. "Nothing can stand in our way?" he asked, eliciting a chuckle from Train, who was sitting on the couch munching on a bag of potato chips.

Sven ignored his comment, continuing, "Eve. When you said he was well off, why the _hell_ didn't you tell me _how_ well off he is?"

Eve turned and blinked at Sven. "I said he had a lot of money," she answered. "I didn't think the exact amount was important. Why? Is there a problem?" She returned her arm, currently sprouting a wing, to its normal configuration and Creed followed suit, dropping the shield shape he'd formed to protect himself from her mock attack.

"You didn't say he was a multi-millionaire."

"Billions and billions," Creed corrected with a peculiar accent to his words and Sven closed his eyes in an exasperated expression as he muttered, "Give me strength."

"Billions? Hey, we could pay off our debt!" Train said and, when Creed's eyes lit up, tossed a potato chip at him. "That's a joke, Creed. We aren't touching your money."

"I only wish," Sven grumbled. "Guilliaume DeVerry's money belongs to Guilliaume DeVerry. Even if he's going by the name Creed Diskence now."

"I don't mind," Creed protested. "It's just money. I don't need it."

"Just money. JUST money. Creed" Sven shook his head. "No, I'm not going to get mad," he said, more to himself than to the others. "I know you don't understand. I know you may never understand. But for all that it's an incredible amount of money, it is _your_ money. We will not take it to use for our benefit. And don't you dare give it to us as a gift – understand?"

Creed sighed. "All right."

"Besides," Sven continued, musingly. "I'm not sure exactly how we can access it. Eve could redirect the funds, of course, but I don't really want to use illegal methods to get what's yours legally. Which means we have to contact your trustees – whomever they are – and get them to acknowledge you. Then try and work out what's best."

Suddenly crestfallen, Creed realized that he wasn't going to get to go shopping that day after all. "Flowing like a river to the sea" he whispered.

"What?" Sven stared at him, while Eve frowned and went to the computer desk. "What do you mean?

"I think he means it's going to take time," Eve explained. "It's an Alan Parsons song, according to Google. Time, flowing like a river to the sea."

Creed nodded at Eve as he headed to his 'room'. It wasn't that he cared about the money, but if Sven wanted to wait until it could be gotten legally then he'd have to wait for that much anticipated shopping trip. _Disappointed, when I have no right to be. He did say we had to wait. I just didn't realize how long. _

&&&

Sven watched Creed drift off with a frown. "What is _wrong_ with that man?" he demanded.

"You said he could go clothes shopping today, remember?" Train said. "If we have to wait for his money to be available, he won't be able to do that."

The frown deepened. "Of all the childish."

"Exactly," Eve answered, looking off in the direction Creed had gone. "He's trying not to make a scene, Sven, but he _is_ unhappy not to go."

_I have _got_ to stop expecting the Loony Tune to act like a normal adult human being,_ Sven thought to himself. _And if he really _was_ being childish then he'd have thrown a tantrum, instead of going away to be unhappy out of sight._ It occurred to Sven that he wasn't being at all fair to his not quite wanted housemate. He was going to have to stop thinking of Creed as the Loony Tune, too. It was coloring his attitude towards the kid.

"Where you going?" Train asked, as Sven got to his feet.

"To talk to him."

&&&

Laying on his mattress and staring at the ceiling, Creed allowed his mind to drift off. The emotions of the moment, the disappointment, all were too strong for him to deal with. He needed time to recover his equilibrium.

Somewhere deep inside him, the child-voice screamed, _It isn't fair! It isn't fair! I WANNA GO SHOPPING!_ It was a mild tantrum, though, one that didn't need him to find something physically exhausting to do. It _did_ need the cause of his disappointment to leave him alone. Which, of course, meant that Sven was right there at the doorway asking to come in.

"I vont to be alone," Creed muttered.

"Sure you do, Greta. But you're not. Let me come in and talk, would ya?"

With a sigh, Creed sat up and grumbled. "Whatever."

The sound of footsteps behind him told Creed that Sven had walked up to him. "Creed? Would you look at me?"

"Whatever." Creed turned, forcing his face not to show his feelings. "What is it?"

Sven's expression showed concern, which only irritated Creed more. "Look. I didn't think about our plans for the afternoon. I sorta forgot how important that new clothing was to you."

Shrugging, Creed looked at his hands. "I have no reason to care. I spent the last year in a hospital uniform, after all." He didn't add that he'd loathed the thing, comfortable though it had been.

As if reading his mind, Sven made a face. "Musta been hell for you, all things considered. Wearing that drab brown all the time." He sat on the chair across from Creed. "We can still go shopping, Creed. I'll just put it on your account. When we get access to your money you can pay me back."

Creed shook his head. "Never a beggar nor a borrower be. You have no idea if I ever _can_ pay you back."

"True," Sven agreed. "In which case we're going to have to pay for your keep anyway, so it becomes a moot point."

Before Creed could say anything more, Eve leaned into the room and held out the mobile phone. "Mr. Jenson would like to talk to you," she said.

&&&

Sven took the phone and winced as he remembered. "Mr. Jenson. I am _so_ sorry. The appointment must have gotten deleted from my calendar, and I forgot about it owing to a family crisis."

"Well," the old man's voice responded. "Come now. I've got time today. That is if you still want the job."

Creed's expression shifted. It had looked almost happy a minute earlier, but now a resigned and tired look crossed his face. _Damn. Damn, damn, damn! I can't afford to alienate this guy but I got Creed's hopes up. I can't leave him hanging either._ "I tell you what. I'll come without Train. He needs to do something this afternoo"

"Mr. Heartnet is the one I need to discuss the matter with, remember? He's the one who will be doing the job, isn't he?"

"We're partners, Mr. Jenson. What you say to me you're saying to Train."

"Not to be rude, young man, but I don't like talking to middle-men. Train comes here or I find someone else."

Creed's dark eyes met Sven's before the Sweeper could tell Jenson to forget it. "Go ahead. I can wait. I've waited nearly a year, after all." He managed a weak little smile that made Sven wince.

"Hold on, Mr. Jenson." Sven covered the mouthpiece. "Creed I'm sorry. If he weren't such an important client.Wait a moment. I have an idea." He spoke into the phone again. "Mr. Jenson? If Train comes with one of our other operatives, would that be sufficient?"

"I suppose. Just make sure they're on time. I don't like waiting."

As Sven finished making polite noises and reassuring the client, he turned to Creed, who was looking puzzled. "There. Train and Eve will go to the meeting. You and _I_ are going shopping." _I just hope I don't regret this. Talk about hell on Earth. Clothes shopping with Beau Brummel here is going to drive me straight into a squirrel cage. _

&&&

&&&

Creed frowned at the thing in his hands. "It really isn't fair. They all have darts." He slid his finger along the line of stitches.

"Those lines in the shirts?" At Creed's nod, Sven's voice sounded sour and a bit impatient. "Funny that."

Snapping back, "Indeed. I have no idea whatever why women would need the things," Creed hung the blouse back up and turned to the next rack, scanning its contents for something, anything, that would be worth wearing. His lips compressed on his anger as he forced himself not to shove the fabric aside roughly.

There was silence from his companion. "You understand that we're in women's clothing section and you're still looking? Good Lord, Creed. Should I make you an appointment in Sweden for a sex change when you get your money?"

"Give me strength. Give me strength to resist me own strength to keep from chokin' him to death," Creed barely noticed that his words had a faintly Irish lilt as he turned and looked at Sven. "Tell me, do you think doing that would make Train love me? The way I'd like him to?"

For a moment Sven looked like he was going to explode. Then he closed his eyes and seemed to count to ten. "I doubt it would change anything, Creed," he said finally.

"Then there's no point, is there? I yam what I yam." Sven's expression at Creed's declaration was both amused and bemused, and Creed had to fight down the irritation and aggravation again. Considering that Sven had skipped out on an important appointment to take him shopping, he really ought to be more grateful. He tried again. "I'm not a sheep in wolf's clothing, Sven."

Another silence followed and Sven stared at him. "What? That's not a media reference, is it?"

"Does it have to be?" Creed asked plaintively. "I don't know how to explain. I like what I like. I love whom I love. Train is Train. What's attached to my crotch has nothing to do with it." He sighed. "I was born in the wrong place and the wrong time, wasn't I?" Men's clothing hadn't used the bright colors and silky fabrics he adored for a very long time. _Never mind the design and cut of the outfits. _

"Maybe," Sven agreed. "Thing is, if you know all the clothing here will have these dart thingies, then why"

"T'is not always true, t'is true, T'is pity though, t'is mostly true."

Sven pulled a blouse out and looked at it. "This one too. What did you do before?"

"For that tailored look, call Ekidona. Outfits with love in every stitch a specialty," Creed answered, smiling bleakly. It was hard for him to be aware of other people's feelings, but Ekidona's concern for him had been more than usually obvious. He hoped she was okay. "Off the shelf costumes for megalomaniacs just isn't something you find readily available in your local market."

"I see." Sven shook his head. "All right. Well, we can't contact _her_, obviously." He looked thoughtful. "Y'know, I should have asked Train where he shops. Or even Eve."

"Eve's clothing is painted on," Creed pointed out.

"Huh? Oh, you mean because it's created out of nano-machines. Yeah, but she has to have found examples somewhere." Sven shrugged, leaning against the wall. "It's obvious this place is a bust for you, though." Creed sniggered at the pun and wondered why Sven stared at him that way. With a sigh and a shrug, the blonde continued, "I just don't know where anything you'd be willing to wear might" His eye focused on something behind Creed. "Hold that thought!"

Creed stared after Sven as he rushed off.

&&&

"Miss. Excuse me, Miss?" Sven came to a halt beside the young woman who had just passed the window. Dressed in a tight, strapless outfit, black from head to toe, her high heeled boots glittered with small diamonds and there were bands and strands of silver chains all over, her long blond hair streaming down her back. As she stared at him with the expression of someone looking at a peculiar animal, he continued, "Where did you buy your outfit?"

"Like, what?"

Sven took a deep breath. He didn't deal with teenage girls very often and he felt taken aback by her sardonic air. He just hoped she wasn't going to think he was a masher. "Where did you buy that outfit? And do they sell men's clothes similar to this?"

"Like, you'd better go back in _there_, man," she pointed back at the store he'd come from. "You dress bad, but this kinda thing'd look _awful_ on you."

Taking a deep breath, Sven forced himself not to lose his temper. "Miss, it's not for me. It's for him." He pointed through the window at Creed, who was standing behind the show window with a bewildered expression on his face. "See, his wardrobe's been, er, destroyed and he's been borrowing my friend's clothing. He needs some of his own."

The girl stared at Creed with widening eyes. "Ooolala!" she murmured, looking up and down with an expression that Sven thought would have looked more in place on the face of a young boy checking out the action. "Pretty, _pretty_! What's his name when he's at home, then?"

"His name is Creed," Sven sighed. "But Miss we just need the name of your shop. I assure you, he's not"

"Let me guess," the girl sighed. "Gay, married, engaged, going steady or just so enamored of someone that doesn't even know he exists that he couldn't possibly look at another girl or guy? Or some combination thereof?"

Sven coughed. "Well uh yeah. Sort of." _At least Train knows he exists. But damn that's close. _

"Such a pity." Considering the wide eyed Creed for another long moment, the girl continued, "Well, we can't leave something that pretty in clothing that sad. Nice enough, but it barely fits and leaves the poor thing looking so very pathetic." She gestured for Creed to join them and – when Sven repeated the gesture – Creed started for the door. "We'll need to get him out of that silly outfit. I'm not sure I want to get another outfit _on_ him, but I suppose he'd object to going around naked. Lovely though the sight would be."

Sven felt his cheeks redden. "If you say so."

&&&

Creed stepped out onto the street and blinked at the young woman Sven had accosted. He wasn't sure why she was looking at him the way she was, but he had to admit to admiring her outfit. "Oh I like the way you think this time Sven."

"Hello, pretty," the girl said, holding out a hand covered in silver jewelry that included a spider's web, a pentagram and an ankh, among others. "I'm VeeVee. So very _pleased_ to meet you."

Blinking only a little at being called pretty – Creed knew he was considered good looking, after all – Creed took the offered hand and bowed slightly. "Charmed," he answered.

"Oooooh. And charm_ing_ too." VeeVee smiled brilliantly. "Now then. If the two of you walk this way I'll introduce you to my favorite shop."

Creed simply couldn't help responding, "If I could walk that way I wouldn't need." He stopped mid-sentence as Sven smacked himself in the forehead and VeeVee giggled. "er Sorry.

"You're cute. Funny and cute," VeeVee decided, turning and sauntering down the sidewalk, hips swaying. "Come along, now."

As the two men walked behind VeeVee, Sven leaned over and murmured, "She may hit on you, Creed."

"I promise to be a good boy and not hit back," Creed reassured him. "I don't get into fights if I don't have to anymore, remember?" He wished he understood why Sven was glaring at him like that.

"I swear, if I didn't know you aren't doing it on purpose _I'd_ smack you. No. She thinks you'd be fun to go out with. Maybe even go to bed with."

"Sure would, sugar," VeeVee answered, without bothering to look over her shoulder. "Pretty things like you aren't found every day."

Creed blinked, a bit startled. He'd known by some instinct that Ekidona had found him attractive, that she would have liked him to find her so in return, but he'd never had a girl come on to him so blatantly before and he wasn't quite sure how to act. "Why miss, I hardly know you," he said finally.

"And this matters how?"

At a loss for words, Creed glanced at Sven pleadingly. The Sweeper sighed. "VeeVee? Creed's not used to that sort of thing."

VeeVee turned, glanced at Creed and frowned consideringly at what she saw in his face. "You're right," she agreed. "Where'd you find such an innocent anyway?"

"Trust me. It wasn't my idea." Sven groused. "So, what's the name of this place we're going to?"

"Memories."

&&&

&&&

Train watched the two figures coming up the walk way with a mix of relief and amusement. Sven looked exhausted and somewhat stunned, where Creed was walking – no, practically skipping – beside him, carrying two large black paper bag with cursive writing in dark red on it, his entire demeanor triumphantly pleased with itself. Rather surprisingly, Sven had a bag as well.

"Rejoice," Creed called as soon as he spotted Train. "We conquer."

"Hail the conquering heroes home," Sven added, tiredly. "Damn. Now he's got _me_ doing it."

Creed looked at Sven and smiled. "You should go sit down. Take a load off. We'll leave the light on for you."

Sven winced, making his way up the steps and into the living room where he dropped onto the couch with an exhausted sigh. "Man, I am _beat_! Little wretch bullied me into buying some shirts for myself, too. Take a look."

Train chuckled as he opened Sven's bag. Rather to his surprise, the shirts were simple tasteful things that might actually make even Sven look good. Sven gave him a sourly humorous look and Train laughed. "Don't forget to hang them up." He ignored Sven's indignant sputters and looked at Creed. "So, what did _you_ find?"

As Eve went to get Sven a whiskey, Creed began pulling out soft, silky, shirts. Rather to Train's surprise, they weren't jet black. Rather they were colorful mixes of blues and greens. Some were loose fitting, with matching braided silk belts. Others were tighter and at least one had a snow leopard motif. The pants varied in color somewhat as well, though all were fairly dark and silky. _Not quite what I would have expected him to buy,_ Train thought and said, "What? No jet black dusters with a rose motif or something?"

Creed smiled almost shyly. "And dust mops for collars? No Not everybody wants to rule the world," he answered, "Not anymore."

It occurred to Train that Creed's outfits reflected his state of mind. Not the black and white costumes that might have indicated the man's obsessed side, but colorful – yet chaotically designed – outfits that reflected the peaceful chaos in Creed's thoughts.

"I wish you'd been there," Sven sighed. "Not just because he's tired me out, but you might have liked to see how well he did with them. I think he made some friends."

"How to win friends and influence people," Creed agreed with a happy nod as he carefully folded up his purchases. "They were very nice to me."

Sven took the glass Eve handed him and took a swig. "Thanks, Eve. I needed this." He looked over at Creed. "You ever decide that Train _isn't_ the best thing since sliced bread, I think you've got about two young women and a young man ready to eat out of your hand."

To Train's surprise, a small blush colored Creed's cheeks. "That will never be," he denied. "But it was nice I liked it."

Train grinned. "Well, while I wouldn't be sorry if you stopped feeling quite so strongly about me, I don't exactly want you to make a noise like a hoop and go away, either. On the other hand, I don't think anything in the rules says you can't make friends. Just remember that – for now – you need a chaperone."

Creed's quiet nod and smile was all the reassurance Train needed.

To Be Continued...


	16. Intermezzo: Hoshi

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 ampersands(&&&) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: HOSHI

_September 8, 2003 _

"Are you still convinced he's any use to us?" Shiki glared at Doctor, eyes narrowed. Beneath his veils his brows were drawn together in a deep frown. He pointed at the crystal ball between himself and his ally, at the image of a pale haired man busily sweeping up in a kitchen. "That man is no longer capable of anything but following behind Train Heartnet, wagging his fool tail and begging for scraps."

Doctor smiled wryly. "Mmmm. I have to agree that he's not going to come back to us." He gave the crystal ball a considering look. "I suppose we could kill Heartnet in such a way as to implicate Chronos."

Ekidona shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. For one thing, Heartnet's damned good. The chance of him surviving anything we did would be too high. For another – if Creed ever found out who was really behind it." Her voice drifted off and she shuddered. Shiki couldn't blame her. He was intensely impatient with the man's foolish passion for Train, but he also recognized an uncontrollable obsession when he saw it. There were few things that might break Creed's current decision not to kill, but Train Heartnet's death would probably be one of them.

"Well enough," Doctor agreed. "In any case, Shiki, I'd like to keep an eye on what he's doing, though we don't need to be quite so intensive as we have been up until now." He chuckled and Shiki gave him a sour look. "Besides, between ourselves, Chronos _and_ the Secret Service, our former leader is going to be well watched."

The sigh that escaped Shiki's lips was deep and long. He eyed the figure in the crystal ball again and shook his head. _I suppose this is marginally better than the way he was when we found him._ He remembered the lost creature Doctor had brought home, so many years ago, and still wondered why he'd agreed to Doctor's plans for him.

_No, as long as that stupid obsession of his wasn't first and foremost in his mind, Creed Diskence was a capable leader._ That was the thing that irritated Shiki most about the situation. Creed Diskence focused on the effort to defeat Chronos was skilled in tactics and planning. The original intention, to force Chronos' leadership to come to the Hoshi, to fight the Hoshi on its home ground, quite likely would have worked. _Even if it did mean having to be beholden to those damned nano-machines of Doctor's._

Unfortunately, that plan went entirely out the window when Creed had gone entirely around the bend over Train Heartnet. Not for the first time Shiki wondered what it was that that man did to people to make them so fond of him. _Ahhh, never mind. It's just a setback. Our true plans remain the same. The bastards who killed my people will pay. I promise that._ He set the crystal ball aside and turned to Doctor. "Very well, we keep an eye on him, just in case. In the meantime, we have other plans to make."

To Be Continued...


	17. From Rags to Riches

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there.

As another note, seems to be eating extra lines and a lot of non alphabetic characters. Thus I'm using a set of 3 ampersands(&&&) to represent changes in character voice and two sets to represent changes in scenes not marked by a date. Hopefully that will help because this fic changes voice a _lot_.

Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

FROM RAGS TO RICHES

_September 9, 2003 _

"Mr. Heartnet. Mr. Volfeed. It's a pleasure to meet you." The lawyer for the DeVerry family – Georges St. Michel – gestured for the two men to sit down. He was in his forties, silky white hair carefully groomed, handsome features stern but pleasant looking. "And you would be the young man claiming to be Guilliaume DeVerry?" Dark black eyes looked Creed up and down with a faintly disapproving air. Despite the conservative outfit Sven and Train had forced their companion to wear, there was still something not quite right about Creed.

_It's the hair. The eyes. Everything. He looks and acts like a week old chick. All down and innocence._ Train thought, glancing at his confused charge. Then he winced as Creed answered, "Or a reasonable facsimile thereof." Train sighed and reflected that Creed was doing pretty well in the focusing department apart from that little error. _And it isn't like it's a disaster if he screws up and he can't get his hands on the money. We're expecting a fight on this as it is. _

"Please, sit down, Mr. Diskence." St. Michel pointed Creed at the seat across from his desk. Train noted the choice of surnames and sighed inwardly. This was going to be a lot harder than he'd hoped.

"Thank you, sir." Creed took the seat, doing so in a fashion that made St. Michel frown puzzledly at him. Not that Train could blame the man. Creed looked like a child trying very hard to sit still and behave, hands folded in his lap, legs askew, black eyes wide and attentive, sure sign that he was as nervous as hell. "I'm sorry for the problems I'm causing."

"The biggest problem is confirming your identity, Mr. Diskence. Everything after that may be quite easy. If you are an imposter we send you on your way. We have no wish to prosecute for fraud. Not when proof of that fraud is currently so simple to achieve." St. Michel took something out of his drawer. A small box that Train recognized in part as being a finger printing kit.

Creed nodded. "But the problem is, once you _do_ identify me I really don't know what to do next."

St. Michel frowned. "Your confidence may be ill-founded." He walked back around the desk. "But it's beside the point. We have several means by which to identify Guilliame DeVerry. Among them"

"An almost fanatical devotion to the pope?"

Train groaned. "M. St. Michel?" he interrupted. "I should warn you. Creed is not mentally stable – that's why I'm his guardian. He's doing pretty well right now, but he says weird things. Just ignore them if you can."

"I have had the opportunity to view Monty Python, Mr. Heartnet. I actually find the joke amusing, if ill-timed." St. Michel opened up the kit. "To continue, Mr. Diskence. The hospital where Guilliame DeVerry was last seen before his disappearance at seventeen years of age kept meticulous records. His fingerprints, of course. Dental records. X-rays. CRT scans. They even had a DNA analysis – used, I believe, to assist in determining if his pathology might have a genetic component."

"I thought he was in the hospital because he was brain damaged," Sven protested and St. Michel raised a brow. "Or did that happen later?"

"I know absolutely nothing about his treatment, Mr. Volfeed. The boy's physicians have never been willing to break patient confidentiality that far. They have accepted that – in order to identify Mr. DeVerry – they needed to allow us access to the records I've mentioned, but all else regarding his problems and the reason he had been remanded to their care has been kept strictly to themselves." St. Michel shook his head. "Frankly, I would have been much happier if they had revealed something of the treatment to me, just so I had something further to use for questioning potential claimants."

"I don't remember what they were doing to me," Creed said softly. "It wouldn't matter."

Train knew that Creed wasn't telling the complete truth, but he said nothing to the contrary. He knew that his companion was barely able to think about that time without getting upset and he didn't want Creed to lose his cool right then and there.

&&&

Creed watched the lawyer set up the fingerprinting unit and – when asked to – quietly allowed the man to put his fingers in the ink, then mark the little card. Wiping both hands, he waited for St. Michel to prepare the next test. "I hope you don't have a problem with needles? Which arm is better?" the lawyer asked finally.

For a moment Creed hesitated, wondering what the nano-machines would do under such circumstances. Would they ruin the test? Or even be noticed? He rolled up his right sleeve. "This one," he said, before St. Michel could get ideas that he was hesitating out of fear of being proved an imposter. Deciding not to say anything, he just waited patiently for the lawyer to finish taking a sample. "You've had a lot of practice. Have there been many imposters?"

"Unfortunately, Mr. Diskence, a missing heir to a billion dollar empire is more than enough to make the risk of being found out worth it. And – most people don't know that we have such elaborate proofs available to us."

"I see. How long will it be before you know either way?"

"I forewarned the laboratory we use that there would be a set of tests needed. So they will be able to put it through in a few days. Paris is very beautiful this time of year. I suggest you take advantage of the fact. When you return at 3pm on Friday we should have the results of the testing."

Creed looked at the others, who shrugged. "Sightseeing would make Eve happy," Train said. "She was hoping to visit the Louvre."

"Very well. Then we shall see you in three days. Or not, depending on exactly how sure you are of your success."

&&&

&&&__

_September 12, 2003 _

As the sound of church bells striking 3pm echoed through the old building, Creed stepped into M. St. Michel's office and came to a dead halt in the doorway. Train, standing behind him, was initially unable to see why, until he looked around Creed and saw an older man in a white coat near the window and watching Creed with an intent expression.

"Guilliame, it's been a long time."

"Non" Creed's voice sounded scared and he dodged sideways and behind Train. "Non!"

"Who are you?" Train demanded, as Sven took up a protective position behind Creed. After years of being in the business, the sense of danger was highly developed and Creed's fear made both men nervous.

"This is Dr. Jean Carvel," M. St. Michel said quietly. "When I got the results of the tests, I was obligated to call him in. Mr. DeVerry I apologize I realize this is distressing to you. But you were very unwell at the time of your leaving St. Jude's." Carvel and St. Michel looked at each other with expressions that suggested that they were in agreement with each other on some point.

_St. Jude's. That was the place he didn't want me to put him in. What the hell did they _do_ to him there? He's scared out of his wits!_ Train glared angrily at the two men, remembering some of the things Doctor Jones had said about Creed's previous treatment. "And your point is?"

Dr. Carvel smiled. "He was disturbed to the point of violence, Mr. Heartnet. And damaged in such a way that there simply was no cure for him. He was kept under lock and key for his own safety and the safety of others."

Creed whimpered. "Please don't let him don't let him take me back Train?" His voice was weak and Train reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "In the oubliette all alone so very alone"

"Now, now, Gil. It wasn't that bad. You're a danger. You need to be taken care of" Carvel's voice continued inexorably. He shook his head. "I see your inability to control that meaningless drivel remains unchanged as well." Creed made a sound like a dying animal and Train squeezed his shoulder lightly, feeling the thin body shudder uncontrollably.

St. Michel coughed slightly, glancing from Creed to the doctor. As if suddenly coming to a decision he stepped forward. "Mr. DeVerry, your grandfather's will was very clear. He was never told the exact nature of your problems, nor the reason you were being kept at St. Jude's. Therefore he simply willed the money to you without caveat. It was his opinion that St. Jude's, having lost you, was no longer an adequate guardian and he took up legal guardianship until such time as you reached adulthood."

Carvel glanced at the lawyer sharply and Train thought the apparent solidarity the men had presented when they'd entered had been broken. There was real anger in Carvel's eyes as the lawyer continued, "Obviously, this didn't really matter since you were missing, but I reassure you that you cannot be remanded into Dr. Carvel's care unless you and your current guardian choose to return you there. Dr. Carvel is here merely to confirm that you are indeed who all the evidence indicates you are. Your reaction to him alone shows that you do know him."

"And," Carvel noted, still smiling that rather weasel like smile that barely concealed annoyance, "I would point out that while I have no right to take him back with me, I am firmly of the opinion that he should hand himself over. Mr. Heartnet, are you aware that the man you are protecting murdered his nursemaid and another man when he was thirteen? That he is damaged in such a way that he can _not_ overcome his violent urges?" He eyed Creed disdainfully, "There's no way such a man could ever become a _useful_ member of society."

Train smiled sourly. _I'm really getting to dislike this guy. No wonder Creed was so sick over the idea of going to a sanitarium, if this fellow was his only experience._ "We know he's unwell. We know exactly _how_ unwell. But he has had professional help for some time now and the improvement in his behavior is exceptional. More importantly, he has voluntarily put himself under _my_ guardianship – since no amount of professional help can constitute a full and perfect cure. In other words – Doctor – Mr. DeVerry is no longer your concern and I have no plans to change that."

&&&

Creed glanced at Train with a surge of gratitude. _I keep forgetting how much he hates bullies,_ he thought. _My dearest love. I know you don't do this because you return my feelings, but I swear I'll earn the trust you put in me. Somehow._ He forced back the trembling panic induced anger that Carvel had instilled in him. The garden was going to get a lot of work when they got home, but he wasn't ready to do something unpleasant right then and there out of fear of Carvel's mildly threatening pose. _I'm better,_ he realized suddenly. _I would have killed him by now, otherwise._ Relief flooded him at the thought.

"Well," Carvel said quietly. "Well enough. There certainly is nothing I can do." He headed towards the door and smiled into Creed's eyes, as if deliberately trying to incite anger. "Just remember, dear boy. St. Jude's will always have a place for you, if you choose to return to us."

"I'd rather be cut into a thousand tiny little pieces and dropped into a stasis tank," Creed answered quietly. "To spend the rest of my existence in some laboratory geek's experiment."

Carvel raised a brow, shrugged and bowed. "As you wish, Gil. Au revoir."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Creed growled as Carvel walked out.

"Mr. DeVerry?" The lawyer was looking very worried and Creed managed a weak smile. The Creed of a year ago would have been in a violent panic and would – probably – have ended up carving up Carvel. _Ooo. Nice turn of phrase._ He turned and smiled reassuringly at the older man.

"I'm sorry for making a scene." Creed walked over to the chair across from St. Michel's desk and sat down. He felt very proud of how well he hid the unsteadiness as he did so. "Apparently, I have some unhappy memories from my time at St. Jude's was it? Doctor Carvel's presence brought them back." He waved a hand lightly. "But never mind. You're saying that you believe me to be who I say?"

"Everything we tested checks out. If the matches were less perfect I'd ask for further tests – dental and x-ray – but there's no need. The laboratory says it's 99.99999% certain that you are Guilliame DeVerry."

Train chuckled behind Creed. "Just like scientists. Never willing to be absolutely sure of anything."

"Doctor was like that," Creed answered, smiling up at his love and glad to see the look of approval in Train's eyes. He'd made it through a kind of gauntlet and Train was pleased with him. If he'd had a tail he'd have wagged it. "What happens now?"

"That depends. You own a large amount of holdings. You have every right to do whatever you want with them. Of course, since Mr. Heartnet is your legal guardian, he must approve your decisions," St. Michel indicated the paperwork that Train had presented him with on their arrival. Sephiria's work, that, ensuring that Creed could never go anywhere or do anything without Train's approval and consent. "In the end, however, it really does all belong to you."

"I don't need billions," Creed whispered. "I don't have any idea _what_ to do. I was just hoping to earn my keep with Train."

As St. Michel raised a brow, Sven said quietly, "Who has been taking care of the finances? Surely someone has been in charge of the whole shebang since his grandfather died?"

"I have," St. Michel answered. "I like to think I've done a good job. Though you may not wish to have me continue, as I do have a peculiar status as regards the money." At Sven's curious expression the lawyer continued, "I am Peter DeVerry's bastard son. As such, unless Mr. DeVerry writes a will to the contrary, or has married and had children, I inherit everything after his death. You may not wish to maintain my position given that."

Creed looked startled. "You you're my"

"Uncle. Yes. I knew you as a little boy, though we only met a few times. You'd been considered mentally unstable since you were small, Mr. DeVerry. My half-brother never explained why."

Sven looked at St. Michel for a long moment. "We'll think about it. For the moment, though, you're still in charge – okay, Creed?" At Creed's nod, he sat down and started writing numbers on a sheet of paper. "So let's work it this way. Establish a trust fund for Creed's use. Oh hold on Creed? Do you want to go back to your birth name? Otherwise we'll have to get your name legally changed to Creed Diskence."

Creed smiled. "What do _you_ think?" He was still looking a bit startled to find out that he had a close living relative. "Guilliaume DeVerry just doesn't feel right anymore."

"Okay. If you can get the paperwork set in motion to get the name change taken care of?" At St. Michel's nod, Sven continued. "Anyway, set up an account for him at this bank. It's the one we use. Once a month, deposit about this much in. If he needs more, he would have to ask you for it." He held out the papers, showing Creed the numbers he thought would be reasonable for his partner's charge to live on. Creed nodded.

"And, of course, Mr. Heartnet would be approving any additional monies." St. Michel looked pleased. "Though this seems hardly enough."

"It'd be enough for him to live fairly well on his own. He'll be living with us and helping out with the house. This will give him enough money to spend on himself but not so much that he'd be spending it wildly all over the place. A part of the reason Train's his guardian is that Creed has poor impulse control. Handing him too much would be like handing a compulsive gambler his own bank."

St. Michel looked at Creed. "Is this amount enough?" he asked. "I realize that Mr. Heartnet ought to have final say, but"

"Money makes the world go around," Creed answered. "But the love of money is the root of all evil. Or at least one large root. I don't need much. Oh would you write a check for Mr. Volfeed right now? I owe him for some clothing and for our hotel rooms."

Sven blinked at him. "Damn. You keep surprising me, kid. I didn't think you'd remember."

"Never a beggar, nor a borrower be," Creed reminded his love's partner. "From here on, I won't need to be. And that's all I really want."

To Be Continued...


	18. Chocolate Makes the World Kin

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

CHOCOLATE MAKES THE WORLD KIN

_September 13, 2003 _

Sven walked downstairs into the hotel lobby, stretching. An older building in a quiet suburb of Paris, it had been a nice compromise between cheap and livable. It was a bit run down, but not unpleasantly so. _Lived in._ Sven stopped in the sitting area and scented coffee, a substance much required for a decent start to his morning.

Noting a pale crest of hair thru the window, Sven grinned wryly. _Kid _would_ turn out to be a morning person._ He went outside to the café table where Creed was sitting, gazing at the street. "This seat taken?" he asked, gesturing at the metal chair across from his partner's charge.

"That depends? Where do you want to take it?" Creed asked, and Sven winced. "Go ahead, Sven. That is if you don't mind putting up with me before you've had your morning coffee."

Sven parked himself and gazed out at the street – empty, so early in the morning – with a sense of satisfaction. It was just plain nice out this morning. "That rain last night cleaned things up nicely."

"I can see clearly now," Creed agreed, then gestured at the waiter. " Jean-Marie? Coffee for my companion. And another piece of cake for me, please?"

Somehow it didn't surprise Sven that Creed was already on a first name basis with the staff. This whole trip had shown him that his new housemate had a talent for etiquette that went above and beyond the call of duty, most likely because Creed needed those rules in order to deal with the world around him. He shrugged off the thought and raised a brow, shaking his head. "Cake? This early? Breakfast of champions, that is."

"Have you had it yet? It's incredible." Creed's eyes were bright. "It's more of a tort, and thin, so two pieces aren't that bad."

With a laugh, Sven shook his head. "You're such a child sometimes. Good thing you have a high metabolism."

A small smile crossed Creed's face. "VeeVee wants to find a way to drain it and market it." He chuckled, shrugging. "So, why up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," Sven admitted. "Thinking about the situation. You were right that this is going to be pretty complicated. What are you going to do with all that money?"

"I've never been one for holy books, or deedle deedle dum all day," Creed answered wistfully. "Too much time to think. Too much time to contemplate things that I don't want to contemplate."

Sven nodded. It was certainly true that Creed was constantly in motion for much of his days. The only times he settled down was early in the morning or in the evening when he was watching TV on the porch. It had never occurred to Sven, though, that his housemate was working so hard in order to avoid thinking. "That the folder M. St. Michel gave you? The description of your holdings?" He nodded at the black leather case that sat beside Creed's plate.

"You'd like to look at it?"

"If you don't mind?"

Creed shrugged again. "Train isn't the money minded one," he said quietly. "Maybe you'll be able to think of what to do. I barely understand what's in here, much less what to do with it all."

-

As Sven glanced through the papers Creed contemplated his beloved's partner. Though Sven would never be thoroughly comfortable with Creed's presence in his life, a slow shift seemed to be occurring. Sven was more tolerant of his vagaries, of the odd little things that Creed knew he couldn't help saying. The man had barely blinked at the comment about reading the holy book.

_Now I _am_ a rich man, though. With money I have no need of and holdings all over the world. If I'd known that when I was leading the Hoshi I wouldn't have had to steal so much. I wonder did the Geezers know? Did they expect me to use those holdings in the war?_ Creed shrugged off the thought. It didn't matter anymore, after all.

"Three diamond mines. A vineyard, an electronics company. A small oil company No wonder you're so damned rich. If I read this stuff right, St. Michel's efforts have only made the stash bigger. Hey, did you know your family owns a castle in the south of France?"

"I do now," Creed pointed out. "I just read the papers, after all." He noted the waiter bringing the second plate of cake for him and smiled happily at the man. "Oh, thank you very much, Jean-Marie."

"My pleasure, M. Dickens," the man answered, bowing. "Your coffee, M. Volfeed."

Sven waved for the cup to be set down, barely noticing the man as he went over the papers. "Thanks."

With another bow, the waiter left them alone and Creed delicately cut a bit of the cake off and tasted it. _Yummy,_ he thought, sighing happily. Rich, dark and sweet, with a faint bitterness that gave it just enough kick to keep it from being cloying. _Like Train._ The thought was quickly set aside, since he knew Train probably wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

"Hey, that _does_ look pretty good." Sven was eyeing the cake with an interested look.

"Here." Creed held out a clean fork.

After only a moment's hesitation, Sven took a bite, then smiled with pleasure. "I love it. Didn't figure _you_ for a dark chocolate fan, though. Sort of figured you'd like something sweeter."

Creed shook his head. "Depends on my state of mind, really. I like sweet when I'm feeling moody, or unhappy," he answered and, when Sven raised a brow, added, "Makes me feel better." With a wry smile he added, "It's probably a good thing my Tao and nano-machines make my metabolism so high. I eat a lot of sugar when I'm unhappy."

"I see. So – given that the opposite is true – right now you're feeling pretty good, I guess?" At Creed's nod, Sven got a considering look on his lean face. "Hold on. I'm going to get myself one of those. Then I'm going to take advantage of the fact that you seem to be thinking clearly this morning and talk about what to do with all this."

-

Licking the last bits of chocolate off his finger, Sven glanced at Creed as if daring him to comment. Instead the dark eyes had an almost approving gleam. "We should take a box of this home with us," he commented. "Wonder if we could get the recipe."

"I asked. Ancient family secret." Creed shrugged. "No one at home could make it, anyway. I suppose you could take it to your friend at that bar, though."

Sven smiled. "Well, you're the one who's always complaining that we don't eat properly. Why not learn how to cook? You've been doing the housework anyway."

For a moment Creed just stared at Sven disbelievingly. Then he frowned, considering the suggestion carefully. "It might not be impossible," he agreed very slowly. "Doctor Jones says I should do things that need some attention, to practice focusing without having to be angry."

"There, you see? Listen to your doctor if you won't listen to me," Sven grinned. "And, speaking of focusing. Can you handle some financial talk?"

"I think I can."

Glancing over the portfolio, Sven sighed. "First off, are you willing to trust my advice? I'm not your guardian, after all. All I can do is make suggestions."

Creed's lips quirked. "Well, perfect as I think Train is, I'm not so crazy that I don't know he can barely balance a checkbook."

A small laugh escaped Sven's lips. "Ruin our checking account's more like it. And I repeat. No. You will _not_ pay off our debts. Any debt we incur owing to Train's destructive tendencies must remain ours to deal with. Understand?"

"Not really," Creed admitted, dark eyes puzzled. "But Train said the same thing last night."

Looking at Creed and seeing the innocent confusion, Sven hoped that the man would be able to grow up a bit more. Sometimes it seemed like he had to be led by the hand through so many things. "It has to do with your position in the household. You're Train's ward. He has influence over you of a sort that could easily allow him to take advantage of you."

For a moment Creed's eyes lit up, then he shook his head. "Oh, wait. You don't mean that sort of advantage."

With a wince, Sven nodded sharply. "That's right. I don't. And considering your mental state right now, if he took advantage of you _that_ way it would be bloody wrong, too." Sven sighed, seeing that Creed couldn't understand why that would be so anymore than he understood why it wasn't a good idea to pay off Train's debt. "Trust me on this one, Creed."

Creed shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Though he knew Creed's agreement lacked conviction, Sven also knew it was the best he was likely to get. He opened up the portfolio and considered the contents. "According to your Grandfather's will he made you his sole heir. I'd have to ask St. Michel about it, but that means you and he are probably the only members of the family left."

"No, if you read the third paragraph on the fifth page you'll see that there are some distant cousins in Germany and a couple in America. Grandfather provided them a small stipend. And St. Michel has a permanent retainer unless I fire him." At Sven's raised brow, Creed's dark eyes met his. "I didn't understand much of it, but I did read it all."

Sven sighed. He kept forgetting that near photographic memory of Creed's. "Valuable brain space is going towards your memory, isn't it?" He grinned at Creed's small deprecatory shrug and finished reading through the will. "Hmmm. In that case, the only person who has had control over the family fortune up until now has been St. Michel. Now that you've re-appeared, that control is entirely yours."

"Doom, despair and agony." Creed sighed. "Dogs and cats living together."

The description amused Sven, particularly since Train had told him about Creed's self-comparison to a Doberman. "Yeah, it'll be a riot. Could be one literally if we let you make all the decisions." Sven shook his head. "Hell, I don't think Train could handle this either. What do you think of St. Michel?"

"Trustworthy. He's taken good care of the family finances. Of course, greed isn't just a poor man's sin." Creed's frown of consideration held the most sense Sven had ever seen in it. "I'm fairly sure he called Carvel in to scare me off. Still, I think he did so because he doesn't want me ruining everything he's worked to keep together."

"Mmmm. Yes, I have to agree." Sven looked at Creed curiously. "So, should we find someone to replace him?"

Slowly Creed shook his head. "No. I can't blame him for not wanting someone like me in control of that fortune. I think he should keep at it. He knows the job best of all."

Sven noted to himself that he should always make important decisions with Creed in the early morning, _when he's rested and his brain is operating at some semblance of normality_, and nodded. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. I didn't get a sense that he wanted the money that badly but that he didn't want you to mess things up for everyone else." Not, perhaps, the best of reasons, but an understandable one none the less. "He'll need to send records of what he's doing, just to keep you us in the loop, but with all the other people's lives riding on keeping your little empire stable."

Creed's frown of puzzlement reminded Sven that the man had little real comprehension of what all those holdings meant aside from the massive amount of money that resulted from them. "Every one of these companies employ at least a hundred to a thousand people. If the business fails, those people are out of a job, remember?"

It was like switching on a light. Creed's eyes sharpened and he nodded. "Of course. I didn't think things through. Which is silly, considering economics was one of the main reasons – aside from wanting Train's attention – that I joined the Hoshi."

Startled, Sven blinked at his companion. He couldn't help interrupting Creed's flow of thought by asking, "I thought you _started_ the Hoshi."

Dark eyes met Sven's with a wry expression. "Not really. Shiki and Doctor had met up before I became involved." His lips quirked into a sad smile. "I was a real mess when Doctor found me. But, because I'd been part of Chronos, because I knew its inner workings, he felt I could help. He convinced me that the Hoshi was my best chance at winning Train back." His voice broke. "I'm sorry. I'd rather not think about that too much. I made such a mess of things."

Sven couldn't help but feel a sharp surge of sympathy. Creed must have been an easy target for Doctor. Unbalanced and lost without Train, he would have readily grasped onto anything that might win back the one thing he desired most. Recognizing that Creed wouldn't want Sven to show his feelings on the matter, Sven tapped the folder. "Then let's not make a mess of this too, right?"

Creed sighed, eyes dropping down to look at the table. "Right. I don't want to destroy those jobs. So St. Michel is the man to take care of things."

Sven sighed with relief. He hadn't been at all sure how Creed would react to being so rich. Admittedly, up to this point he hadn't shown any sign of caring, but Sven had not been certain how much the younger man had understood. Now that he did, though, he also understood that he wasn't the man to rule the empire that he had inherited. "Then that's what we'll do. Now, I think _I_ am going to have another piece of that cake."

To Be Continued...


	19. Winning Friends and Influencing People

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

WINNING FRIENDS AND INFLUENCING PEOPLE

_September 14, 2003 _

Train yawned, leaning back against the car seat and stretching. "Been a long trip," he murmured, watching the scenery shift to more familiar territory. "Good to get home." He glanced behind him at Creed and Eve, the one watching out the window with her usual serious expression, the other deeply asleep. _He's looking pretty good for someone who was raw hamburger two weeks ago,_ Train thought, smiling indulgently. Asleep, Creed tended to look rather younger and more innocent than he really was.

"Yeah," Sven agreed. "Though I think we might wanna stop at Cait Sith for dinner." He rubbed his stomach momentarily before putting his hand back on the wheel. "Getting hungry and I don't feel like fast food."

The idea sounded wonderful to Train and he said as much, perking up immediately. Annette's little café was one of his favorite places to eat and not just for the company. Annette was a good cook. Then a thought occurred to him and he straightened, glancing back at their companion. "Ahhh, Sven? Have you mentioned Creed to Annette yet?"

There was a long silence. At last Sven cursed, softly and with feeling. "No, damnit," he muttered. "I haven't. We can't just walk in there with Creed Diskence and expect her not to react." He glanced in the mirror and Train heard Creed mumble something before curling up a bit deeper into sleep, twisting from one position to yet another.

With a sigh, Train shook his head. "No, we can't. Guess I'd better warn her, huh?" He could have begged Sven to do it, but _he_ was the one who brought Creed home. "Drop me off at the door and I'll take care of things."

-

-

"Oy. Creed. Wakey wakey."

Creed opened one eye and peered sleepily at Sven. The blonde had turned in his seat and was eyeing him with a strange expression. "Hmmm?" He blinked, looking around curiously at the buildings gleaming softly in the shadows, limned by orange tinted streetlights. Eve was already out of the car and stretching. "Where are we?" It was somewhere in town, certainly, but not a place he'd been to yet.

"Garten Street. We're going out for supper before we go back to the house. Hungry?"

Considering his stomach momentarily, Creed nodded. "A bit. Perhaps a smackeral?" He sat up and opened the car door, getting out and glancing around. "Train?" His Cat was nowhere to be seen, and he was worried.

Sven climbed out of the car. "He went ahead. I should probably warn you, Creed. The woman who owns the place we're going to was a Sweeper. She's an information trader now, so she keeps up with the Wanted Lists." As Creed looked puzzledly at him, Sven sighed and added, "Which means that – even though there's no bounty out for you now, she's going to know who you are."

"Oh. Annette's." Creed wasn't sure how to react. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted from their trip and all he really wanted was a hot meal and a return to bed. Not even the cool evening breeze flowing around him was enough to really wake him up. "I'll try to be a good boy," he offered uncertainly.

There was doubt in Sven's eye as he examined Creed, but he sighed at last and nodded. "About the best I can hope for at the moment. C'mon."

-

-

Sven opened the door to the Cait Sith and peered in. Not too many people, he was glad to note. He was even gladder to see Train gesturing for them to join him in one of the back rooms. It would be better to keep Creed's first meeting with Annette private. Admittedly, she had had no dealings with the old Creed to give her reason to fear him specifically, but she was certainly aware of his reputation.

Eve hurried forward, taking off her coat as they passed through the main dining area. Creed trailed behind, yawning. _He's not in any fit state for meeting new people. It's a good thing Annette's pretty laid back. She may know there's reason to fear him, but she won't be jumpy._ Sven held the door open for his companions, then closed it behind him.

"I've told her," Train said as he sat down at the long table. "She's a bit taken aback, but I don't think there'll be trouble."

"Double bubble," Creed muttered sleepily, collapsing into a chair. "Boiling rubble."

Sven glanced at the pale haired man as he leaned on his fists and gazed adoringly at Train – who ignored the gesture as ostentatiously as he could. "Is it just me or is he making even less sense than usual."

Choosing a seat beside Creed, Eve nodded. "He's tired. It's been a long trip. If he manages any sort of intelligent conversation it'll be a miracle." She eyed the man sitting beside her. "Creed? You okay?"

"Aye, there's the rub." Dark eyes blinked blearily at Eve, expression confirming the girl's diagnosis. Sven hadn't seen Creed look this out of it since the evening after Sephiria had come to the house. _Well, he was scared then and now he's just sleepy. Still, this is going to be an interesting night, conversation-wise._

Apparently Creed seemed aware of that much, for he added, "Pay no attention to the mind behind the curtain." He drifted momentarily, then added mournfully, "It's useless anyway."

-

Train felt a sudden epiphany, looking at the sad face of his companion, though he knew better than to say anything. _He spent so much time trying to change the world so there'd be no useless people. He thinks _he's_ useless._ It explained so much about Creed and made his capitulation to Train mean quite a bit more. For whatever reason Creed had believed himself useful and important as an assassin for Chronos, had believed that being at the side of one of the organization's best men had made him special. _That's why he couldn't let go. It doesn't explain why he thinks he loves me, but it makes his desperation before more understandable._

"Useless?" Annette's voice interrupted Train's thoughts and he glanced over to where the older woman was pushing a cart laden with food into the room, her greying brown hair pulled back from a face that was still attractive, despite, or perhaps because of, the lines. Her expression was non-committal as she eyed Creed. "Your reputation says otherwise."

Creed's dark eyes blinked bewilderedly at Annette and Train suddenly regretted not explaining to her the full nature of his troubles. There hadn't been time, though. He'd had to settle on telling her he'd make a full explanation later and leave it at the fact that Creed was now under his guardianship.

At last Creed found an answer, though it wasn't an answer that made much sense if you didn't know how his tangled up mind worked. "I can't tell you how the ocean meets the shore."

Annette set a large bowl of goulash down on the table as Train hurriedly explained Creed's peculiar mode of expression to the former Sweeper. "He's really tired right now, so it's even harder for him to talk clearly than usual." He glanced at Creed, who was gazing curiously at Annette. "We'll explain him as best we can."

Breaking the bread up for herself and Creed, Eve added, "If we use your computer it'd be faster. He gets so obscure sometimes I have to look it up." She handed Creed a large piece of bread. "You dip it in the goulash, Creed." Train hid his grin at the sight of Eve, barely out of her own ignorant days, acting the well-versed senior. _Especially since I doubt Creed really needs to be told how to eat. _

"Dip it good," Creed answered, smiling at Eve, then beginning to eat, only to stop as he suddenly realized he was the only one doing so. "Oh, sorry. Excuse my manners." He yawned again, a big, uncontrolled yawn. "Sorry again."

-

Everyone was looking at him with _that_ look again and Creed winced inwardly. He wasn't up to this. _I'm not even making sense to myself._ "I'll just make a noise like a hoop."

Annette gazed at him evenly and he fidgeted uncomfortably, fighting back an urge to start quoting Shakespeare. He wasn't sure why he felt like doing so, but he was reasonably sure that it wouldn't be appropriate.

At last the woman said, "Doesn't it take more time to use the associations to talk than it does to say what you mean?"

He couldn't help himself. "T'is mad, t'is true, t'is pity t'is true." He was well and truly launched now and verse after verse of poetry about madness began pouring from his lips in an uncontrolled flood, the flow increasing as Annette's eyes grew wider and more disbelieving. He couldn't blame her. His own eyes widened and he stared pleadingly around. _Somebody stop me Help! _

For almost a minute Creed continued in that vein, then Train reached out and Creed found himself the subject of an intensive noogie. "Okay, Shakespeare. You've made your point. Stop. Now. Eat your food."

Fighting back tears of relief, Creed nodded silently. Communication was just not going to happen right now, he realized and it would be better if he didn't even try. Silently he began to spoon up his goulash, barely paying attention as Train and Sven began a thorough explanation to Annette.

Suddenly the woman was standing beside him and Creed looked up, scared and not sure what to do. "I see," she said musingly, looking into his eyes and considering him carefully. "No need to talk, Creed. I may not understand everything, but I can tell you're not up to it right now." As Creed sighed in relief, she added. "Though, someday, I would like to discuss your sending that unpleasant gentleman here."

-

Annette wasn't sure why she added the last comment. The Hoshi member who'd attacked her café and had nearly killed her and Eve had been frightening, certainly, but reminding the man who'd sent him there of the incident when his mind was obviously wandering off in a cloud of pink daisies couldn't possibly help matters.

Oddly, though, there was supreme confusion in the pale features, as if their owner hadn't even the remotest clue what Annette was talking about. Then the puzzlement shifted and she thought she caught a glimpse of the man deep beneath the fog, a brief flash of intelligence that must once have been the true Creed. "Durama?"

"That the guy with the face mask?" Train asked the question quietly and Annette noted that the others were tensing slightly, uncertain what Creed would do. _Me and my big mouth. I really should have saved this for a better time._

Creed nodded. "Not I, said the fly," he continued, looking up at Annette with an expression she could only describe as innocent. "He was a bad, bad boy." Dark eyes suddenly flashed towards Train and the man's expression shifted to fear and aching sadness. "So was I. Sh.. should I be sorry I killed him?" At Train's startled look, the soft alto continued hurriedly, "I knew he couldn't hurt you. He wasn't nearly good enough. No one was good enough, but he wouldn't have let you alone. I didn't want him bothering you. He wasn't worth your time."

With a sigh, Train put a hand across Creed's mouth, stopping the babble. "Creed? Remember what we decided? You've done some bad things but you've stopped doing them now. We aren't going to discuss them anymore. Right?"

Slowly Creed's expression quieted and he gave Train a look of profound gratitude. Watching it, Annette couldn't help but be convinced of Train's earlier assertion that Creed was deeply enough in love with him to be under some semblance of control. Then those dark eyes turned to meet Annette's and once again there was that bright flash in their depths. "I had nothing to do with what he did, but I apologize for the trouble he caused you, Miss Annette."

After a moment, Annette smiled. She still felt uncertain about the situation. Creed was dangerous and not even the fact that he was obsessed with Train changed that fact. On the other hand, it was hard not to have kindly feelings towards something so fluffily confused and bewildered as the big eyed creature sitting in front of her. At last she said, "Apology accepted. Just don't do it again."

A giggle escaped Creed's lips. "Turn around, go back," he sing-songed. "Oops. Sorry."

Annette sighed and shook her head. "Eat your supper. I'll talk to _you_ when you make sense."

-

Sven pushed back from the table with a sigh and glanced at the others. They were all showing various signs of repletion. Eve, who had easily eaten the most, was carefully wiping up the last of the gravy. Her nano-machine body made it necessary to eat like a horse, but it was still something of an education to see how much she could put away. Creed hadn't eaten quite that much, but then he had fewer nano-machines and generally didn't use them to create additions to his body the way Eve did. Train's appetite had always been big, but it couldn't keep up with Eve and Creed's. As for Sven, well two bowls of Annette's best goulash was more than enough.

Annette, who'd been going back and forth between the private room and the outer, public eating area, paused at the doorway. "Did you save room for dessert?"

Shaking his head, Sven sighed. "I love your cakes, Annette, but not tonight. That goulash was too good. I overate as it is."

With a grin, Train lifted a hand. "I'll have some. Whatcha got?"

"Cookies, the chocolate cake Sven likes so much, apple pie and a crème brulee." Sven knew Annette was teasing him. It was really hard not to succumb to his fondness for her cake. _If I didn't get so much exercise as a Sweeper I'd be round as a plum._

With a smirk that told Sven Train was teasing him as well, his partner answered, "Cookies and milk then, please. I'm not that much of a chocolate fan."

Two voices spoke at once. "Philistine." Rather to Sven's surprise the second voice, echoing his own, was Creed's. He glanced at their companion and saw that the pale-haired man was looking equally startled, as if stunned at his own temerity. Only Train's sudden laugh kept Creed from stammering apologies.

"Two cakes, a cookie and a crème brulee for you, Princess? Or do you want to try the apple pie tonight?"

Eve smiled. "I like the crème brulee best, Annette. That'll do fine."

It wasn't until Annette had left the room to get the desserts that Sven realized that she had included him in the dessert list. _If it weren't _that_ cake,_ he sighed. _Oh well. Better get some good exercise in tomorrow._

-

Creed closed his eyes happily as he let the cake in his mouth dissolve slowly. "Oh yes. This is really tasty. Not the same recipe as that one in Paris, but excellent." Food had helped his thought processes, waking him just enough not to let his usual drivel loose. _No. Train says not to call it that. Silliness. Goofiness. Nothing really bad. _

Sven chuckled. "That one's heavier, surely? I think Annette aims for light and fluffy so we can survive larger portions." He grinned up at the older woman, who was smiling with satisfaction as the group made small noises of pleasure. Train, as usual, was dipping his cookies and slurping his milk, clear sign of his approval. At the look of curiosity on her face, he continued, "We were in Paris to handle some finances for Creed. The Hotel du Lac had a marvelous torte."

"Oh yes. I remember that one. They won't give anyone the recipe, which is too bad, because I'd love to be able to serve something similar here. I just don't have the time to experiment." Annette sighed, shrugging slightly.

Creed sighed as well. "Too bad," he agreed. "So sad. We likes it, we do."

Before Annette could answer, Sven seemed to have a sudden thought. "Of course. I'd almost forgotten. And if anyone could do it, you could, Annette." As four pairs of puzzled eyes blinked at him, Sven continued, "It wouldn't work today, obviously, but one of the things Creed's doctor would like him to work on is practicing small tasks to help him learn to focus without falling back on the training Chronos gave him."

"And?" Annette asked, curiously.

"Would you teach Creed to cook?"

Startled at the thought, Creed turned widened eyes on Annette, half-hopeful, half-scared. She looked back at him with a thoughtful expression. "I could. Depending on what he's like normally. As you say, he's in no shape for it now." She considered him for a long moment. "Bring him back when he can think a bit more clearly and I'll see what I can do. Given he'd like to do it, of course."

With a bright smile, Creed nodded happily.

To Be Continued...


	20. Intermezzo: Unknown

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: UNKNOWN  
_September 15, 2003 _

The room was dark, a gloom near impossible to decipher, the sort of darkness associated with secrets and hidden agendas. To the two men, their faces concealed from each other, it was a darkness very much desired. The darkness of conspiracy. The one light, a faint blue glow, barely limned the table between the two, and the papers scattered upon it. Topmost was an old Want sheet, the smug, amused, face of a pale haired man looking out from the photo at the center. A line was drawn through the numbers at the top and – at the bottom – was the legend, 'Avoid at All Costs'.

"Creed Diskence." The speaker's voice was soft, the purr of a hunter on the trace. "How very fascinating. Under Train Heartnet's guardianship and protected from being swept, despite all that he has done."

The other man's voice was older, a harsh dry voice that dripped with self-confidence and certainty. Yet under that certainty was – ever so faintly – a touch of fear. "I don't know why he is no longer a wanted man. Nor do I care. He is a danger, a terrible danger, to all around him. A heartless killer who must be dealt with, one way or another."

A chuckle escaped the first man's lips. "A heartless killer. Indeed." A well-tanned hand reached out and tapped a pile of cash that sat between the two. "Well enough. I can be heartless as well. And for this price, your concern for Creed Diskence should not last much longer."

"Then I will leave the rest to you." There was a soft scraping, a faint sound as someone stumbled through the darkness to the door. Another faint sound as the door opened, then closed.

In the shadows left behind, the first man smiled. "This should be a challenge," he murmured. "I do believe I'm looking forward to it."

To Be Continued...


	21. The SweeperChef's Apprentice

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE SWEEPER/CHEF'S APPRENTICE

___September 18, 2003 _

"If you'd just learn to accept that he's going to do something unanticipated."

"And what? Anticipate it?"

The argument had lasted all the way from the house to Annette's café, a conversation that might have caused a fair number of strange looks if it wasn't early in the morning when almost no one was about to hear it. It was a direct result of Sven's diatribe against Train the night before, one that had sent Creed into a quivering heap on the rooftop. Only Train's reassurances afterwards that this was simply the way he and Sven had always operated had gotten their frightened and angry housemate down.

"At least accept he's going to do it. Why get so mad at him?" Creed's eyes on Sven were still deeply upset, if not positively scared. "I thought you were going to hit him!"

Sven sighed. "I was. I did." He was taking a risk, telling Creed that. The pale-haired madman might have changed immensely from the sociopathic nightmare he'd been but Sven still suspected that it wouldn't take much for Creed to revert. _Especially when it involves injury to Train._ Sven continued, quietly. "It's a guy thing, Creed. You didn't learn it, I guess, growing up the way you did."

"I promised Train I wouldn't get upset," Creed whispered. "I'm trying not to, but I still don't understand it." He turned confused eyes onto Sven. "Is it like noogies?"

-

Sven went quiet for a moment, eyes serious. At last he nodded. "Yeah. You could say that. To tell the truth, Train annoys me because he's always messing around. But then, he's always messing around because it annoys me."

"Then don't be so easy to annoy," Creed offered, blinking at Sven's explanation. "He was _always_ messing around when he was my partner."

With a sour laugh, Sven shook his head. "And you're telling me he never made you feel like smacking him upside the head?"

Biting at his lip, Creed shook his head. "Of course not." Sven didn't look like he believed the assertion and Creed couldn't blame him. He couldn't believe it himself. "Maybe a little," he admitted finally. "But I _couldn't_! He was Train. He was."

"The bestest thing since sliced bread and the greatest assassin the world has ever known. Not to mention your senior, right?" At Creed's nod, Sven continued. "Thing is – and it's Train's choice – he's let me be the boss of our partnership. I make the decisions and I make the plans. I know that bugs you, but that's the way he likes it. Being in charge means taking responsibility and that isn't something he wants to do."

Creed felt near tears. His love hated being tied down, hated being bound to rules and regulations and Creed had practically _forced_ him to hang onto something that was never _ever_ going to be well enough to operate on its own. He took refuge in annoyance. "Well, why should he have to?"

-

If it weren't for the fact that he recognized the guilt in Creed's eyes and the need to alleviate the feeling, Sven would have been aggravated. "Aside from the fact that he's twenty-four years old? He's all grown up, Creed. He _ought_ to be mature enough to know when he's got responsibilities."

"_I'm_ twenty-four," Creed pointed out with asperity. "Thereabouts" He wasn't absolutely certain, not remembering his birthdate.

"_You're_ also insane, Creed. Train doesn't have that excuse." Sven sighed. "You may be twenty-four physically, but you're a six year old when it comes to maturity." Creed's expression turned offended and Sven continued, "Don't look that way, Creed. You're at least twice as old as Train intellectually. Guess it averages out to a pretty young teenager, maybe thirteen."

Creed opened his mouth to protest, stopped and sighed. "I suppose you're right," he agreed. "About me, at least. Train's still."

"Not an angel, Creed. I know you're nuts about him, but it's crazy to think anyone's that perfect. You're going to have to accept that." The stubborn look in Creed's eyes forced another sigh from Sven. "It's hard for you, I know. I wish you'd learn it, though. I don't want to have to send you back to the asylum because you're getting all obsessed again." He hoped Creed understood that he wasn't pushing for that solution. He'd become accustomed to their companion in the last few weeks and if he didn't always like Creed, he was beginning to understand the man a lot better.

Creed suddenly smiled that sweet little smile. "Are you kidding? There are crazy people there." Sven's jaw dropped and Creed added, with a terrible hauteur, "Just because _I'm_ crazy doesn't mean I want to be with other fruitcakes."

Sven started to laugh and, after a moment, Creed giggled too.

-

Annette turned to look at the two sitting at her bar as she completed the last details of her morning routine. Go over the café receipts and accounts, download the latest rumors and Sweeper jobs available, clean up anything she missed the night before – all the little chores that had to be done before she could start her day. An additional task had been to go over Creed Diskence's file. She hadn't been sure that she could handle teaching someone like Creed cooking and having looked at the file she was even less so. _Listening to them talk doesn't help._

It was odd, though. Sven usually got hotter under the collar with people who acted the way Creed was. His response to Creed was that of a slightly impatient elder brother – or maybe not quite so slightly – she amended as she listened and Creed said, "If Train's not all that smart, then how come you can't outthink him and tell when he's going to mess around?" Sven's deep breath and barely controlled growl in response told her that the older man was irritated.

Before Sven could find a way to set Creed off further, Annette moved to stand in front of the pair. "Could I interrupt?"

Three eyes stared at Annette, startled. Creed's dark, intensely black and bewildered, Sven's blue one bemused. "Yeah?" Sven asked, raising a brow.

"I wanted to discuss something with Creed, before I even consider taking him on as my student."

This time it was Creed who raised a brow. "With me?"

Pulling her barstool over and sitting, Annette nodded. "I couldn't help but listen to your conversation." Creed's expression remained unchanged, puzzled and mildly confused, as if he had no idea how disturbing the argument had been from the outside. "I suppose I want to know if you realize just how much you _owe_ Sven."

-

Creed went dead silent, understanding the unspoken concerns by some instinct of self-preservation. He would have missed them later in the day, but that had been part of the reason Sven had brought him to the café at this hour – when he was at his clearest and most focused.

"You're worried about the way we're fighting, aren't you?" Sven asked quietly, glancing at Creed then leaning on the counter with a considering expression.

"Shouldn't I be?" Annette asked.

"It really isn't." Sven began, only to stop when Creed reached out and put a hand on his arm. "But."

"Give me a moment to think," Creed asked, softly, pleadingly. In the silence that followed he closed his eyes, trying very hard to look at the situation from a different perspective than his own. _Should I not argue with him? Train said it was okay, but maybe Annette doesn't agree? I like our arguments. I don't feel quite so much like hurting him when we argue._ The thought led to another and to a flash of comprehension. Annette was bothered that he was fighting with Sven because she was worried for her friend and didn't understand why the two of them argued. _Just like I was bothered by the way he and Train fight._ With a sudden, bright, smile, he said, "It's a guy thing. You wouldn't understand."

There was stunned silence as the two others stared at him and Creed suddenly had a qualm. Had he misinterpreted? Was his answer somehow inappropriate? He couldn't trust his instincts or his logic, after all. Before he could backtrack, try and work his way out of the verbal depths Sven said slowly, "Y'know, that isn't a bad way of putting it."

"It's an excuse."

"Miss Annette?" Creed looked up at the older woman quietly. "Sven lets me get some of it out of my system. He knows I won't hurt him. I _can't_ hurt him, or Eve, or you. Or anyone. Train won't let me. Sven knows I can't help what I say to him, not entirely. I have almost no self-control. I'm not sane and I can never really _be_ sane. It's better now, but I still feel hurt and frustrated and unhappy sometimes."

Annette shook her head. "Is that any reason to take it out on Sven? He's letting you live with him, accepting someone as risky as you are into his life. Into the lives of people he loves." Her voice was calm, but there was deep worry beneath the quiet tones.

-

Sven opened his mouth to speak, then realized suddenly that Creed needed desperately to handle this situation himself. _We never told her about the brain damage,_ he reminded himself. _She must think he's just rationalizing his behavior – trying to justify it._ "Annette," he started.

"No! Please, Sven. Let me." Creed looked at Annette and Sven was startled by the tears in the pale-haired man's eyes. "Miss Annette, I understand. Really I do. You're afraid of me. I've done some very violent things some very _bad_ things. I wish I could say I understood – in here – that they were wrong, but that's part of what's wrong with me up here." He tapped his chest lightly, then his forehead. "I can't make many promises but I _can_ promise that I won't hurt anyone anymore. It may be the right thing for the wrong reason, but if it _is_ the right thing does the reason really matter? If you can't trust me, can you at least trust Train?"

"It's his control on you that I'm having trouble trusting," Annette explained quietly. "You tried to kill Sven once. How do I know you won't forget what Train wants because you get so mad at Sven that you can't keep from hurting him?"

With a sigh that spoke volumes, Creed shook his head. "Miss Annette, I wasn't trying to kill Sven that day at the church. I wanted to damage him, yes. Hurt him, definitely. I also wanted to make him show what he truly was at heart what I _thought_ he was so Train would see Sven wasn't worth his time." A strange look crossed Creed's face, agonized, hurt and pathetically sad. "I would have killed him once Train _had_ seen that, I won't pretend otherwise. But not now. Because Train doesn't want it and because I love Train I won't do anything he doesn't want me to do, ever again. I'll kill myself before I break my promise to him."

Annette opened her mouth to speak and Creed smiled, that sweet little smile that usually scared the hell out of Sven. Except, for the first time, he had a sense of the childish part of Creed's personality that caused that smile in the first place. A sense of the little boy that had never had a chance to grow up. Then, shakily, Creed continued, "I understand, though. You have no way of knowing how strong my commitment is to Train. No way of knowing if I'll be able to keep my promise to him. In which case, it probably _is_ better if you don't try and teach me. If you'll permit me to borrow some books perhaps send me advice sometimes, I'll be grateful, but I won't disturb you anymore."

"Creed."

"It's all right, Sven. It's fine." Creed started to his feet. "We should leave now."

"No." Annette's voice was gentler than it had been and Creed blinked at her, expression that of a child hardly daring to hope. "All right. I'll teach you and I'll try and deal with the way you are. Okay?"

Creed flashed a look Sven's way and he nodded, reassuringly. Then he smiled a bit more broadly at Annette, "Okay. And, thank you."

-

-

__ _September 20, 2003 _

"It looks like it's going to work out," Annette said as she watched Creed slicing tomatoes. She'd quickly realized that his former skills with a blade could be transferred over to cookery and had put him in charge of the café's food preparation, even while she schooled him in the more arcane arts of boiling water, mixing batters and scrambling eggs. "He listens well, I'll grant him that. Though I have to keep an eye on him or he gets distracted."

"No TV while he's cooking, huh?" Train asked, chuckling. "Yeah, he tends to wander onto tangents. Is he getting better about it?"

Annette considered the question as Creed finished the slicing and carefully washed the knife before putting it away. She was going to have to teach him to save the washing up for _after_ cooking. "I think so. I suppose that was one of my biggest worries, really. Whether he'd be _able_ to learn, considering he seems to believe he can't get any better." She glanced at Train, whose gold eyes showed little of his feelings about the pale-haired figure across the room from him.

"Well, all things considered, there'll be a point where he won't be able to, I suppose. He's never going to be entirely safe on his own, but if this helps him get to a state of mind where he can generally handle himself around people then it's good."

Annette stared at Train. "You think he's hopeless _too_? Train, as long as you look at things that way, he'll certainly never recover his sanity. Even if it's incredibly difficult." She stopped as Train's expression went startled and asked, "What is it?"

"They didn't tell you?" Train's voice held a surprised note. "He _can't_ get completely well. We don't know how it happened, but he was brain damaged when he was a kid. Not even the nano-machines can fix it." He turned his eyes on Creed as the pale-haired man began beating up the eggs for the omelet he was attempting. "His impulse control is almost non-existent. If he isn't told exactly what he can and cannot do, he's liable to do something entirely off the wall and basically wrong. That's why he talks the way he does. Mornings aren't so bad, but the later in the day it gets, the harder it is for him to remember to say what he means."

Going silent a long moment, Annette eyed her student and reflected that feeling guilty wasn't going to help the situation at all. Not that that helped. Admittedly, the fact that she hadn't known why Creed was saying he was incurable was partly because neither he nor Sven had said anything, but it still made her feel bad, knowing that she had been expecting too much. Like asking a cripple to run a triathlon when it was a triumph for him to walk up a flight of steps.

"Y'know," Train said softly, "I think I know why he didn't say anything. He didn't want you feeling sorry for him. He wanted you to teach him because you think he can learn." He grinned suddenly and added, "Which means you may wanna go provide some much needed instruction. I think his eggs are burning."

-

As Annette hurried to Creed's side, Train watched the pair quietly. _It's good, I think, that he felt that way._ He sometimes worried that he'd blown Creed's ego entirely away, but there seemed to be just enough pride left not to permit Creed to use his damage as a tool to get what he wanted. _And that's a very good thing._ Creed might not be able to stand entirely on his own but if he could at least pull some of his weight along the situation wouldn't be nearly as hard on the four of them as it could be.

Train chuckled, sniffing the air. The scent wasn't quite right and he could tell it was going to be a long while before anything good came out of Creed's culinary efforts. On the other hand, if he could learn to do even a reasonably competent job Train could look forward to a future of many tasty treats. Creed had already promised that much, to Sven's great amusement. _And if I have to take responsibility for him then I'm damned well going to accept the associated perks._

To Be Continued...


	22. The Hunter and the Hunted

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED

_September 29, 2003 _  
The target seemed ridiculously easy. Far too easy considering the price that had once been on that fluffy white head. His patterns were simple to follow. Early morning spent in the garden, morning to afternoon visiting a café and – of all things – learning how to cook. Some visits to a boutique on the other side of town – very obviously the target's favored source for his outfits. He had friends there, too, with whom he would go out for coffee or a movie – usually accompanied by one of his housemates.

Those housemates were a complication to the job. The girl had some strange abilities. The older man was savvy and suspicious – not necessarily a worthy opponent in a fight, but tricky none the less. Then there was the one the hunter would have loved to meet up with again. _Just not now. Train Heartnet deserves a nicely planned and chosen field of battle. Not to be a mere incidental in another job._ That their previous meeting had been very much to Heartnet's advantage the hunter carefully avoided considering. He did not like to lose.

Still, it was because of these three that the hunter had chosen his time so carefully. The girl was the only one home and while she might be a problem, the hunter thought that if he attacked when the target was away from the house she wouldn't become involved. While his target wasn't trusted to be on his own for long periods, they apparently permitted him to go to the café on his own.

In a way, it was disappointing. The hunter had hoped for a challenge in Creed Diskence, but what he was seeing was a bewildered little boy barely able to remember his own name, much less how to protect himself. _Oh well. At least I'll be making a bit off of this one. And a no-kill capture is always a touch more challenging. _ He slid through the shadows, following the slender, brightly dressed, figure as he headed through the town.

As the man turned a corner and went down the ally he usually used to get to the bar, the hunter slid after him and waited. At the other end was a blockade that Diskence would either have to climb over or turn back from. _Or somehow pull down. All of which will give me my chan_

Before the hunter could take three more steps he found himself grasped from behind, something sharp touching his throat. "You," the soft alto voice of his prey whispered, "would be Lugado?"

-

The assassin Creed was grasping held carefully still. "You're better than I thought. A nice bit of disguise, pretending to have lost your mind." His voice, softly accented middle eastern, held no surprise, though Creed suspected that was more due to self-control than anything else. "I haven't had a mind to lose for a _very_ long time," he answered finally, giggling. "But some parts of my training haven't been forgotten. You're good. I think you've been following me for a while. I only just noticed three days ago, though." He smiled inwardly, proud of himself that he'd noticed at all, even prouder that Train and Sven had decided to let him handle it – though someone from Chronos was supposed to be keeping an eye on things, just in case.

Loosening his grip on his would be assassin, Creed stepped back and eyed the man. Dark curly hair, skin tone and eyes bespeaking a mixed ancestry. A reasonably good looker and not a bad dresser. _Which isn't important right now. Focus Creed. FOCUS. Your life depends on it. Though that really is a nice tie. I wonder where he got it from? _

It wasn't an easy thing to do, but the threat to his life put just enough adrenaline into his system to clear his befuddled mind. It would have to be enough to allow him to defend himself. "I have," Creed noted wryly, "about fifteen minutes of good brain time right now. So make your choice. Get the hell out of here. Wait until I can't think straight and come for me then – given you think my mental fog is enough to give you the edge. Or come for me right now. Considering what Train told me about you, I rather think" he dodged the blow and came up with his elbow in his attacker's gut. "Yes, that's what I expected." Train had warned him that Lugado had a competitive streak, as well as a desperate need to prove his superiority on the field of battle.

"Not bad. What's with the crazy stuff though?" Lugado's hand slashed out and Creed barely caught it against his wrist. "Some bizarre tactic?"

"Bazaar of the bizarre," Creed answered laughing, aiming a kick at Lugado's gut. The man dodged just fast enough to avoid it. Before the man could retaliate, Creed spun around, racing across the ally and up the wall to do a somersault that landed him on top of the spot where Lugado had dodged to, and thus on top of Lugado. He was suddenly very glad that Eve had insisted on his practicing self-defense techniques that did little damage to one's attacker. The Creed who had led the Hoshi, the Creed who had nearly become a Number could never have fought like this.

Lugado rolled, grabbing Creed by the ankles and bringing him down beneath the slightly larger man. "Fast, good and tricky," the assassin whispered. "Just the way I like 'em."

Creed twisted his way out from under his attacker, but not without effort. "Sorry, dearie. You're pretty enough, but my heart belongs to Train." A giggle escaped him again. "Not that I don't appreciate the thought."

Eyes narrowing, Lugado rolled and kicked Creed's leg. The force of the blow would certainly have snapped human bone easily, but that was the leg Balder had broken and the nano-machine replacements took the strike undisturbed. Creed looked down at the man. "Was that supposed to do something? Twy again. This time with feewing!"

Coming to his feet, Lugado took a deep breath. "I see. You use this foolish behavior to put me off my track. I'd hoped for better from a man like you." He shrugged, full lips sneering, though there was a faint aggravated sound to his voice. "Doesn't matter. You're going down."

-

Rapid fire motions followed the announcement as Lugado spun around, diving and dodging, hands and feet searching for vulnerable spots. Somehow, though, his would-be victim kept managing to evade the blows – to his complete frustration. He couldn't help but compare Creed's fighting to Heartnet's and – while not nearly as good – there was something very similar in the two men's styles that told Lugado that the two men must have had the same basic training somewhere in the past. Though Train hadn't behaved nearly so absurdly.

That soft mad alto voice spoke again. "If I were half the man I used to be, you'd be dead now," Creed noted. "I counted about five spots where I could have cut you in half – and that without my Imagine Blade. You need to work harder, Lugado. You're not up to this."

Though he wondered what the hell an Imagine Blade was, the assassin didn't bother to answer with more than a growled curse. Creed laughed, infuriating Lugado no end, leaping back and upwards, then forwards and onto Lugado's head. "It's so stimulating, being your hat," he remarked as he launched himself forward and somersaulted out of the way of Lugado's fists.

"Will you be serious?" Lugado spun to face Creed, frustration putting a plaintive note in his voice that he hated to hear. This simply wasn't going the way it was supposed to. "Don't you understand that I'm not playing? I could kill you easily!"

"I _am_ serious," Creed answered, smiling sweetly. "As for killing me. That's something I won't let you do. Train's the only one who has _that_ right. Trouble is, I can't kill you without upsetting Train. So I'm operating at a disadvantage. Leaves me little choice, really."

Lugado frowned at the statement. "So. You're going to stop playing around?" He crouched, preparing to leap into the attack again, but Creed had straightened, turning partially away, eyes closed. His hands were held in front of him, as if he were holding something. A baseball bat or a sword, perhaps. Yet there was nothing. Not even the blade Creed had used to get Lugado's attention. Had he time to spare, the assassin might have paused to wonder where that weapon had disappeared to, but Creed was acting so strangely that he knew he had to move quickly.

The former leader of the Hoshi No Shito spun around, arms and hands coming up in a perfect arc. Even if he _had_ held a sword or a bat or a club of some sort it would never had been able to touch Lugado at this distance. He prepared to dive in, pausing, startled at the sound of something moving at him, cutting through the air, that he couldn't see.

Which was when the world caved in on him in an explosion of bright light.

-

Creed released the Tao power, feeling the hilt in his hand fading away, and straightened. "You can come out now, VeeVee. Or should I say – Number Ten?"

A slender blonde woman dressed in a black velvet vest and tight pants came swaying out of the shadows, picking her way amongst the debris strewn across the alleyway. "For a madman, Creed, you're smarter than you act." Shimmering as she moved through the shadows, by the time she was standing in front of Creed she was a young Chinese man, almost too pretty to be believed, dressed in a white outfit. An X marked the point where his collarbone met below his throat, dark hair loose and fine around his face. His smile was sweet and a little regretful.

"Lucky guess, really. You were so very convenient that day we went shopping," Creed explained as his vision blurred and he found himself stumbling sideways. "Though I have to thank you for the corners of my mind I mean Memories." He moved to the side of the alley and slumped on a step. "Sorry."

"Can't expect your brain to stay in tune for much longer." Ten shrugged as he knelt to examine the unconscious Lugado. "You really didn't kill him." He sounded mildly surprised and – oddly enough – pleased.

"That was why you sent him after me, wasn't it? To see if I would? No. The Imagine Sakabatou-ken was all I really needed." Creed dropped his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. "Show me the way to go home" he sang softly. "I'm tired and I wanna go to bed."

"That's it. You have got to stop watching so much anime. Sakabatou-ken indeed." Ten shook his head and added. "Not that I expect you to believe it, but we didn't hire him. Sephiria is well aware of what Train would do if we interfered with his guardianship." At Creed's look of mild disbelief, Ten shrugged. "I've been here to keep an eye on you. To make sure you're not faking it. You do the damndest good act as a loon I've ever seen and – personally – I'm inclined to believe you don't have any control over it."

Creed sighed, barely able to comprehend the conversation. As he dropped his head into his hands again, he half listened to Ten calling for his back up and – when they arrived – sending the still unconscious Lugado off for a bit of quiet time somewhere. "I'll have to ask Sephiria, but I think that we'll be handing him over to Train for questioning – since you're the Black Cat's responsibility."

Creed shrugged, barely aware of Ten's meaning. Nor was he truly aware of the Chronos Number's hand under his arm or of being helped to return to home. He leaned on Ten's shoulder and wished it were Train's.

-

-__

_October 1, 2003 _  
Train glared at Sephiria. "What do you _mean_ that twerp got away?"

"Ten had to get your charge home. He left it up to our men to keep Lugado under control. Unfortunately, Ten was probably the only one who could have kept the assassin from escaping." Sephiria looked annoyed. "He's in charge of keeping an eye on Creed, Train. It wasn't his job to keep assorted killers from getting away."

"Gotta stop hiring those lowest bidders," Creed said from the kitchen, where he was practicing scrambled eggs. "Or at least start breeding for a better class of mook. Too many useless I mean unskilled people in your lower ranks. Train 'em better – or start using the Tao drug. That'd help, I bet."

Sephiria's glare was shared between Creed and Xiao Li, who'd sniggered as he sipped the coffee Creed had made for him. "Now, Miss Sephiria," the Chronos Number said soothingly. "You know he's right – well, maybe not about the Tao drug. Some of our rank and file are there because being tough is about the only thing they're good for. And their sort of tough usually doesn't include thinking. That's why they're rank and file, after all. Course, you can't exactly claim the Hoshi's mooks are better, Creed, just more controlled. Literally, right?"

"I suppose so," Creed agreed, glancing at Train apologetically. "Well, some of them. Doctor's work." Train kept his face blank, knowing that the discussion could only lead down roads none of them really wanted to think about anymore. He _was_ going to have to talk to Creed about his habit of seeing people as useless, though. Even understanding why the subject was such an obsession with his housemate didn't make the attitude right or acceptable. _And when did _I_ get to be the responsible one around here? _

"Thought so." Ten shrugged and changed the subject quickly, obviously recognizing the tension it caused. "By the way, good coffee. Thanks."

"I've had plenty of opportunity to learn your tastes VeeVee," Creed pointed out dryly, though he was obviously relieved to change subjects. He slid the eggs onto the plate and carried them over to Sephiria. "Do you like green eggs and ham?"

The look on Sephiria's face was – at least to Train – priceless. After gazing at the golden mass on the plate, she looked at her former compatriot. "You _live_ with this every day?"

"He's getting to be pretty good at cooking, actually," Train answered. "Here, let me taste it, Creed. Mmmm. Not bad. A bit wet for my tastes still, but better wet than green."

"That's _not_ what I meant," Sephiria grumbled. "And you mean he actually achieved green eggs?"

"Overcooked 'em," Creed explained, beaming happily at Train's compliment and beaming even more happily when Train handed him back an emptied plate. "The sulfur in the eggs reacts with the heat."

"It was a nasty mess," Train added, making a face. "As for living with it every day – it's actually pretty funny. You should see the Creed and Sven comedy act when it gets going." A chuckle from Xiao Li reminded Train that Number Ten – as VeeVee – had had plenty of opportunity to do so.

"I've been told about them," Sephiria answered sourly. "Mileage varies. They don't seem to be all that amusing." She shrugged. "Never mind. The point of my coming here was simply to inform you that we _are_ keeping an eye out for this Lugado Wong. While we wouldn't necessarily cry if Creed dropped dead this minute"

"Not likely Looks don't usually kill unless it's a new Tao power I haven't heard of"

"Hush, Creed," Train patted his charge on the shoulder, then returned his attention to Sephiria. The blonde woman was looking irritated and he could see that she was getting tired of the nonsense. "If he were killed I'd be uncertain if it was or wasn't Chronos – and be forced to make that evidence we discussed public."

"Exactly." Sephiria shook her head. "We'll find out who it is that wants Creed dead badly enough to hire one of the best assassins in the business. Though – aside from Chronos – I'm sure the field is still wide open. Just because he's off the Sweepers' list doesn't make him any more popular – considering what he's done."

"How not to win friends and influence people," Creed agreed happily as he went back to the stove and started cleaning up. "It's nice to be wanted, but there's such a thing as too much of a good thing."

Train was almost certain Sephiria's right eye twitched as she glanced Creed's way. Then the woman looked at Train again. "In the meantime, Xiao Li will keep an eye out for further assassins. Don't let Creed go out alone."

"And don't let me run with scissors, either," Creed added cheerfully and this time Sephiria's eye really _did_ twitch.

"That reminds me," Xiao Li said. "You still want to do that movie, Creed?"

"Finding Nemo? Yes, please. Train said it was okay." Creed turned a quick bright smile on Xiao Li. "Won't let me go to League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, though. Says that's too much violence for me right now."

"Thank God," Sephiria muttered. "Ten. Come with me. I have some things to discuss with you." She walked quickly for the front door, pausing momentarily to add, "Oh, Train. I should note that Naizer has woken from his coma and has been told the situation with Creed. I don't _think_ he will do anything precipitate, but I want you to know – just in case – that he will be disobeying orders if he does any permanent damage."

Train nodded. "Doesn't matter," he answered, noting Creed's almost frightened expression and giving him a reassuring glance. "Same thing I said earlier goes for him too. Anyone does anything to Creed, I'm assuming it was on your orders and do what has to be done. Might not be fair, but it gives you incentive to help keep people from hurting him."

To Be Continued...


	23. Interlude with a Number

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERLUDE WITH A NUMBER

_October 5, 2003 _  
Creed examined the rose with a mild sense of regret. "Roses are red," he murmured, clipping more of the dying branches away. "But this one is feeling blue, poor thing." The trouble was that the roses had been neglected for far too long. Most of them were dying and he wasn't really a competent enough gardener to bring them back, especially so near fall. _I wonder if I gave them some of my nano-machines._ A faint grin curved his lips. Sven would have a fit if he did something like that. _Might almost be worth making the suggestion – just to watch him jump. _

A sound behind Creed drew his attention to the other end of the garden. A man was standing there, his bald cranium, marked with the roman numeral V, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. As if to make up for the lack up top, he had a dark, carefully groomed goatee somewhat similar to the one Balder sported. Unlike his fellow number, though, the man's dress and posture were almost obsessively neat and tidy, the mark of a man who saw the world through a narrow and precise view. Naizer.

Orihalcon tonfas glittered as Number V moved forward. "Creed Diskence."

"Oh, hello Naizer," Creed cocked his head at the intruder. "I heard you got better." The faint cockney accent that accompanied his words was just barely noticeable. He settled in the dirt and waited for the larger man to approach. _Oy. Creed. This guy's not happy with you. He's going to try and kill you._ The tiny bit of sense that existed in the back of his brain was trying very hard to get the rest of the personality to notice the situation, with unqualified lack of success.

As the man stared down at him silently, Creed continued, "Long time no see, Naizer. Not that I've missed you all that much or anything."

Naizer's glare of hatred was palpable and under other circumstances Creed might have been able to push himself out of his current befuddlement in order to defend himself. After several days of waiting for Lugado's attack and forcing himself to pay attention, however, all his mental capacity had been drained to a bare minimum. In a way, it was a relief, though. Naizer and he had never gotten along and he would be safer for everyone around him in a state of dazed confusion rather than the frightened rage Naizer usually instilled in him.

"You are dead meat, Diskence," Naizer growled, reaching out to grab him by the hair at the back of his head. "You're going to pay for what you've done."

-

Naizer raised his tonfa, preparing to drive it forward into Creed's chest, but as he did so, he felt a sudden sharp and agonizing pain in the hand grasping Creed's hair. The wide dark eyes didn't change expression as Naizer shouted and jerked his hand free of the long spikes that had formed out of his enemy's hair.

Staring at his bleeding hand, then at Creed, Naizer gasped, "What the hell."

"Nano-machines," Creed answered in a brightly cheerful voice. "The gift that keeps on giving. Sorry about that." He didn't sound at all sorry as he stood up and brushed dirt off his jeans. He continued looking at Naizer with that curious expression that seemed to say that he had no concept of what his enemy wanted or why. "Come in. Have a cup of tea."

Taken aback, Naizer couldn't help but just stare blankly at his enemy. "What the hell?" he asked again. "What the _hell_ is going on here?" Creed's reaction was completely different from that day Naizer and his companions had come for him over a year and a half ago. That Creed had been amused and irritatingly self-confident but at least he understood what was going on. This was the Creed Naizer had first met, the clueless and easily distracted brat who'd had to be shoved into position because he was too busy looking at the way sunlight glittered on the water to remember the task at hand. "Don't you understand that I'm here to kill you?"

"Oh, I do. I'm just way past rational thought at the moment," Creed answered happily. "Come on in. Have a cup of tea. Meet the wife I mean Oops, sorry. That line's not right, is it?" He smiled wistfully at Naizer, looking like nothing more than a little boy trying desperately to please.

Naizer gritted his teeth as hard as he possibly could. "What sort of game are you playing?"

"Solitaire, I think? Actually you can't meet anyone but Eve right now. Train and Sven are out of town again." The soft voice sounded sad for a moment, then returned to that perky cheerfulness that made Naizer want to throttle him. "Come on in. Have a cup of tea."

"CUT IT OUT! TALK STRAIGHT YOU MANIAC!"

Creed considered him for a long moment, expression remaining as wide-eyed and empty as it had been from the first. "That's _quite_ enough testosterone for _you_ today, young man."

Enraged, Naizer swung his tonfa, only to have it strike the white-haired man's left arm as it came up in automatic defense. To his shock, there was a sound rather like metal striking metal and Creed's arm had changed color from its usual pale flesh tone to a brilliantly shining silver. Even more shocking was the expression in the man's face. Fear, Naizer would have understood. Anger or hatred would have been normal and expected. Even triumphant mockery would have been reasonable. This strange, bewildered wide-eyed look – childish and innocent – was something utterly different from his experience. _No. He used to look that way at me when he was on my team. As if he simply couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. _

Another strike, this time at Creed's chest, was halted by yet another clang and Creed simply blinked at him again. "Are you done yet?" Even the tone was childish, more bemused than anything else. Then those bewildered eyes shifted focus, looking behind Naizer and warning him that he'd better pay attention to his back. Someone small was running towards them.

-

Eve leapt into the air and somersaulted, coming down between the startled Chronos Number and her charge. She'd never met this one before, but from the description it had to be Naizer. Of all the Chronos Numbers the one with the greatest reason to want Creed dead. _Which I won't let him do. Creed's under my protection while Train is gone._ That she actually rather liked the person Creed had become was beside the point. He was her responsibility.

"Who the hell are you?"

Eve straightened, watching the man and considering her options. "I'm Train and Sven's junior partner," she answered. "Eve." From Naizer's expression the name was meaningless and that meant he might not know anything about her abilities. Still, if a fight could be avoided she wanted to. "You should go home, Naizer. I don't want to hurt you."

For a moment the man looked highly amused at the thought of a little girl doing any harm to him. He quickly shook it off, though, as if reminding himself that appearances could be very deceiving, especially where any associate of Train Heartnet or Creed Diskence was concerned. "I don't want to have to hurt anyone except _him_," Naizer said in a hard voice. "He's going to pay for his crimes."

"He's in no state of mind to defend himself, Naizer. Are you that much of a bully that you'll attack someone who can barely remember what he had for breakfast, much less his past sins?" Eve moved slightly as Naizer attempted to shift sideways in order to get a better shot at the man she was defending.

"He was doing a bloody good job of it," Naizer growled. "What the hell is going on with him? What's this nano-machine stuff?"

"Actually, I'm barely up to that much, and we had oatmeal for breakfast, didn't we?" Creed said from behind Eve, sounding almost clear headed for once. "I tell you what, Naizer. If it makes you feel better, go ahead and beat me up."

-

As the two others stared at him, Creed closed his eyes for a moment, forcing his thoughts into some semblance of order. _Not going to last, this. Got a few minutes though. Just enough, I hope. So tired. So very tired._ "That's why you came, after all."

"I came to KILL you," Naizer growled angrily, trying to get to a better position and blocked each time by Eve's quick movements. Creed couldn't help flinching, desperately forcing back the rage that wanted to answer Naizer's.

"Creed. Could you please use this moment of focus for something better than baiting Naizer," Eve grumbled. "Like getting yourself out of here?"

"Wherever would I go?" Creed asked. "No, Naizer. If you really came to kill me you wouldn't have let the little fact that I was blocking you stop you from trying. And you wouldn't be hesitating right now." He smiled wryly at the bigger man. "A member of Cereberos is practically a force of nature. I wouldn't be able to stand against you if you really intended to kill me. Not the way I am now."

"Why wouldn't I? You killed Beluga. You killed Aisu!"

"Strictly speaking, Beluga sacrificed himself for you and Janos – at least that's what _I_ understand – I don't recall injuring any of you that day, for all I gave it the good old college try. As for Aisu it's not exactly as if she hadn't been trying to kill me." Creed shrugged and forced off memories hurriedly. "Never mind that. You may not like it, but you won't do something that would mean trouble for Chronos. Now would you?"

For a long moment Naizer stared down at Creed. "Damn you."

"Probably," Creed agreed. "But not yet, I think." He shrugged, voice going perky, "You want to beat me up, go ahead. Just remember. What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger."

Now Naizer stared at him for a long moment. Then, with an impatient snarl, the man demanded, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

The sweet smile that suffused Creed's face was the one that he knew Sven hated. He couldn't help it though, as his focus drained slowly off into confusion again. "Nietzsche is peachy, but Goethe is murder."

It was Eve who rescued the conversation. "Mr. Naizer, Creed was injected with medical nano-machines some time back. They replace damaged and dead tissue with themselves. So whenever he gets hurt, more nano-machines are created to replace the injured area."

-

Naizer swallowed, unable to comprehend what he was being told. Nano-machines were something he simply didn't understand. One thing he did know, however, was that he really couldn't kill Creed. If he did, he would be precipitating events that would have done incredible damage to the organization he served, the only ones to whom he was willing to give his loyalty. "It's a lie!" he growled, "There's no such thing." His voice died off as he remembered that damned monster Creed had forced him to fight.

"Oh, no lie," Creed answered in a sing song voice, "Keep beating me up and the sooner I'll be nano-machines _allllll_ over."

Naizer stared as he listened to that child-voice and shuddered at the way those dark eyes widened innocently. The way the man's expression had shifted, going from bewilderment to clear and brilliant comprehension and – so quickly – right back to the eyes of a little boy. The really scary thing was that – while he'd like to believe otherwise – every instinct said this wasn't an act. "You're mad."

"N 28," Creed said smiling and nodding. "Bingo!"

Eve looked utterly disgusted. "Well, we've lost him for the time being," she muttered. "But you're right. He's not sane and he's got very little chance of ever being truly sane." She stepped to the side. "None the less, I'm inclined to accept his analysis of the situation, Mr. Naizer. I won't let you kill him, but if you want to beat him up, go ahead. Just remember that you really will be making him that much stronger."

Naizer hesitated, stepping towards the smaller man, raising his tonfa and swung it down towards Creed's face, pulling the blow a moment before it struck. He was simply unable to hit something that looked so much like a puppy dog waiting for a pat on the head. "At least defend yourself!"

"We're sorry. The party you have attempted to exterminate is currently out of service. Please check your number and dial again," Creed said, blinking.

As Eve winced, Naizer put his hand out and grabbed Creed by the throat, attempting to throttle his enemy. Yet Creed hung loose in his grip, face turning a little blue as the blood was cut off, but still simply looking at Naizer with that strangely beatific expression.

"Damn you!" Naizer yelled, throwing the smaller man aside and standing over Creed, glaring at the man crumpled before him. "Damn you, why won't you fight?" Dark eyes raised to his, hurt little boy eyes that simply couldn't understand what was going on.

"He can't, Mr. Naizer. He's in no state of mind to," Eve pointed out quietly. "I think his nano-machines will defend him to an extent, but without a consciousness to control them, that's about all they can do. You're just going to have to make up your mind – either beat him up as he is or let him alone. Or you could wait a few hours for him to have enough mental strength to do something, I suppose."

With that irritatingly sweet little-boy smile, Creed looked at her and nodded. "Come in and have a cup of tea."

-

Inside the house, Eve set Creed to making a pot of tea and gestured for Naizer to sit at the kitchen table. "If you'd like some cookies – Creed's been making some very nice chocolate chip ones lately and this morning's batch is especially good." The situation was, she thought, not quite the right one for quiet socialization, but she was at a loss to figure out what else to do.

Naizer's dark brows drew together. "Creed? Baking? Gardening?" He looked utterly confused as he continued, "I just don't understand!"

"How much did Miss Sephiria tell you?" Eve set a plate of the cookies between them and sat down. _Not enough, I think, if he doesn't understand the nano-machines._ She had to wonder how much of that had been deliberate on Sephiria's part and how much a matter of Naizer's own anger interfering.

The big man looked almost abashed. "Well, to be honest, I sort of stopped listening as soon as she said that Creed was with Train and was to be permitted to live." He clenched his fists, then paused and sniffed as the freshly baked cookie scent hit his nostrils. "How much cyanide is in there?"

"Only a tinch," Creed answered, smiling happily. "Just enough to give it that extra _kick_."

Eve winced. "There's nothing wrong with the cookies, Mr. Naizer. Creed and Sven have this kind of conversation all the time." Though Sven, at least, knew that it was a peculiarly morbid sort of joke.

"Oddly enough, I believe you on that count," Naizer said, taking a small bite and looked consideringly at the sweet. "Okay. These aren't bad. But I still don't understand."

Creed poured him a cup of tea, then started up the espresso maker. "Well I'm _not_ giving you the recipe. Unless you want to pay the two fifty."

With another wince, Eve shook her head. "Creed. Please. I know you're wandering in a daze right now, but could you do so quietly? The non sequitors are getting a bit much. Even for me." _Now I'm going to have to look something else up on the Internet, drat him._ She turned and looked at Naizer. "Since you didn't get the rest of the explanation, I'll try and make up for it. Before Creed was chosen to be trained as a potential Number he was in an asylum."

"That's no surprise," Naizer answered and Creed looked very much like he wanted to say something. Only Eve's warning expression stopped him, to Naizer's obvious surprise. "What does that have to do with his behavior right now?"

"He was insane. The training he received from Chronos made him able to apparently function in society, but at the cost of certain sociopathic behavior. When Train took him in and got him help, part of that help involved going back to the way he was before your people got him." A look of sudden comprehension crossed Naizer's face as he watched Creed. Eve continued, "He's currently working on finding less murderous ways to operate in society, but he can't stay tightly focused for long periods of time. Hence the state of mind he's in now." Eve wondered as she talked if she was pushing the point about Chronos' involvement in who Creed had been too hard. It was impossible to tell from Naizer's expression.

"That still doesn't explain the cooking and the gardening. Even if you're finding ways for him to be – god help us all – a contributing member of the human community, I fail to see how these things help." Naizer gave the man at the counter a disgusted look, "Especially as brainless as he is now."

-

Creed finished pouring his espresso into the hot milk and picked up the cup. Stirring it with his left forefinger – shifted to the shape of a fast moving little whisk – he came over to the table and sat down. "It helps," he said quietly, as his mind settled down a bit to a calmer state – allowing him to talk somewhat clearly without the help of adrenaline. "It's called redirection. I get frustrated. If I have something to do – something to distract me – I can fight off the urge to be violent."

Naizer blinked at him, then was distracted by what his finger was doing. "What are you doing?"

Creed took a napkin and cleaned the coffee off his restored finger. "I like my cappuccino frothy," he explained, feeling as if that should have been obvious. "I'd offer to make you one, but you wanted tea."

Naizer's blinking eyes just stared at Creed's hand for a long moment. "That's not what I meant. Is that the nano-machines?"

"Well, it isn't the mechanical arm of Dr. Klon." Creed shook his head at the silly question. "My one regret, Eve. We can't do flame throwers. I could use it to caramelize the custards."

"We?" Naizer blinked at Eve, who lifted a hand and transformed it into a small mallet with which she tapped Creed on the head, telling him, "This is one of those 'freaking out the mundanes' moments, even if – strictly speaking – Mr. Naizer isn't a mundane."

Creed flushed, embarrassed. He'd been lectured long and hard not to use his nano-machines in ways that would startle or freak outsiders and he usually did much better. "I'm sorry. I've been a bad boy, Naizer."

"That'd for damned sure. Is your brain coming back on line? Can I hit you now?"

"Why don't you bruise me?" Creed couldn't help asking.

Eve coughed. "He can understand a bit more now that things have calmed down, Mr. Naizer, but he's not able to focus – really focus – on what's going on without being in a kind of panic state."

"Little by little, my head fogs," Creed added and closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts into order. "But I'll give it the old college try."

Naizer was staring at him as he pushed his Self back to the forefront. The adrenaline he was 'forcing' thru his system was sending him into a half-angry, half-belligerent state that he would have to be very careful about. Eve, watching him, looked worried and he hoped the smile he gave her was reassuring. "Stop me if it looks like I'm losing it, please?" She nodded, grimly.

Turning back to Naizer, he said, "Go ahead and hit me. I still won't fight back." The warning caused Naizer to stare at him, blinking. "I won't let you kill me, either, but I won't fight you. In my current state of mind I'd end up killing you if I did." At Naizer's continued stare of disbelief, Creed continued. "I killed Aisu in self-defense, of course. But – since she was your lover – I can't exactly blame you for being upset. I'd be very angry with someone who hurt Train. If letting you hit me helps you feel better, I can take it. Just don't be too long about it, because I'm pretty tense right now."

-

Naizer stared for a long moment at Creed's sharp, intelligent, tones. This was the Creed that had fought Chronos – or as near to it as possible. Yet – at the same time – it wasn't. The Creed who'd been his enemy would never have made such an offer.

At last he shook his head. "Not if it means giving you more of those nano-thingeys." That wasn't the whole of it. It simply didn't feel right to beat up someone who would just smile beatifically at him and let him do his worst. _And he may be more focused than he was outside, but that only makes it worse. Makes it a matter of conscious decision on his part. I won't be manipulated._ Instead he settled on saying, "Self-defense? You're joking, right? She was sent to check your loyalty."

"And if I failed the test? What was she supposed to do? What was _I_ supposed to do? Lay down and die because Chronos said I should?" Creed's amusedly superior look was partly ruined by the small mustache of cappuccino froth on his upper lip – it made him look too much like a young boy sipping his chocolate milk. "I'm sorry, Naizer, but those old geezers who boss you around aren't exactly my choice for people who should be running the world."

Shaking his head sharply, partly to force Creed's milk mustache out of his thoughts and partly in denial of what Creed was saying. "You were supposed to be loyal, Creed. Did you think you could betray Chronos and _not_ suffer repercussions?"

"_They wanted me to kill TRAIN!_" Creed hissed the words, leaning forward with an expression of real anger on his face. "The one person I was taught to revere. The one person I cared about. AND THEY ASKED ME TO KILL HIM. Then sent Aisu to 'prove' my loyalty by making me think she _was_ Train."

"Creed, calm down. Maybe you'd better go out to the garden" Eve's quiet voice was gentle and seemed to calm the white-haired man immensely. Still he shook his head, murmuring, "No, I'm all right. I'm in control. I am _in_ control." His voice sobbed momentarily. "Barely."

"Are you saying you killed her because she was disguised as Train?" Naizer couldn't understand – yet – what Creed was trying to say and he felt almost as bewildered as Creed had seemed to be. "You were a good fighter, Diskence, but you weren't up to that. She would have been expecting it, would have shown herself before you could act."

"Damnit!" Creed clenched his fists, then relaxed them as Eve put a hand on his shoulder. "No. The faker pretended 'he' needed a place to hide. Told me that 'he' was being hunted. What else could I do? I hid 'him' We'd had a fight earlier. I thought everything was all right. That he'd come back to me." Shudders ran through the man. "Never mind that. I was so glad my Train was back. The Train I loved and needed seemed to be loving and needing me." Lips tightening, Creed met Naizer's eyes. "And that night she tried to cut my throat. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for me, at the time my training was good enough that even half asleep I reacted. I fed her knife to her."

Naizer swallowed, partly at the thought of what had happened to his long ago girl friend. Partly at the hollow and agonized look in Creed's eyes. "You can't imagine what it was like to turn my light on and find my Train lying in a pool of his own blood. Killed by my hand. It wasn't until I saw through the disguise that I understood. It pushed me over the edge at the time. Which is why I killed so many getting out of the compound."

"Why? Why was it so bad?" Naizer still didn't comprehend it.

"I LOVE HIM!" Creed wailed. "I STILL LOVE HIM. I'M TURNING INTO SOMETHING BARELY ABLE TO THINK STRAIGHT BECAUSE I LOVE HIM." He buried his face in his hands and began to cry. Loud, childish tears that only began to quiet when Eve put her arms around him and let him cry on her shoulder.

Naizer stared at the man. He wasn't really shocked that Creed was outright stating he loved Train. The Chronos Number remembered the way Creed had reacted that day in the castle. That day that Train had rescued Rinslet and run off with her. He remembered how shocked Creed had been, shocked to the point of completely ignoring his own danger, too lost in his confusion over Train's appearance and cold behavior towards him to even notice Beluga hitting him over the head with his bazooka. For Naizer – only recently woken from his coma – that fight was very fresh in his mind and – looking at Creed – having listened to Creed's sobbing anguish that the man he most respected had denied him, he knew his hated enemy meant everything he'd said.

Getting to his feet, Naizer set his tea cup in the sink. "I think I've caused enough havoc in your day, Miss Eve. I apologize, considering I'm leaving you with this mess, but."

"No. I deal with this every so often. These are things he can't express to Train," Eve answered. "He'll be all right. And you're right. Your presence right now isn't helping."

Nodding, Naizer headed for the door, only to pause and look back at the two. "Diskence? You'll want to get some fungicide for those roses. The leaves are that color because of mildew." Then he left.

To Be Continued


	24. Intermezzo: Chronos

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: CHRONOS

_October 12, 2003 _

"So."

"So?"

"What did you think of him?"

Naizer blinked, startled. When Sephiria had asked him to meet her he'd expected to be reamed a new one for going off on his own to 'punish' Creed Diskence. Instead, here on this deserted roof-top, she was merely gazing off across the city with a considering look. Not for the first time Naizer noticed just how pretty she was, small and elegant, her fine blonde hair flowing in the small breeze. _Exquisite and entirely too young. Too young to for such responsibility. Too young for me,_ he thought, reminding himself of the nine years between them. It didn't help. Somehow, though, he forced himself to speak. "Of Diskence? He's." Words failed him entirely.

"Faking? As insane and confused as he acts? Still likely to cause us trouble?" Sephiria asked, turning to look at him, eyes calm and direct.

Now Naizer understood. She hadn't directly forbidden him to go after Diskence because she wanted to know his reaction to the man. He frowned. "I hadn't expected to report on his condition," he said finally. "Let me think about it a moment." She nodded.

Thinking about Diskence always made Naizer feel irritable. From the first day he'd met the little bastard to now, Diskence had been the most aggravating, most impossible to deal with, and outright weirdest creature he'd ever known. He said as much, adding, "For what it's worth, no, I don't think he's faking his condition. If anything, I'd say his behavior prior to this was the fake."

Sephiria frowned delicately. "Not that I disagree," she said finally, "But why do _you_ say that?"

Naizer considered the matter another moment, forcing his thoughts in order. Sephiria valued clear thinking and concise explanations. "You know I was his first commander when he finished training." At Sephiria's nod, he continued. "The Creed I saw last week was almost exactly like that Creed. Worse, in fact. Completely off-balance and confused. The Creed I knew back then at least _tried_ to pretend that he was paying attention."

The frown deepened slightly as Sephiria considered that. Then she nodded. "I've yet to get the records fully deciphered, but that matches well with what we _do_ know. So you think everything he's done between that time and now was faked? That he was just pretending to want to rule the world, to want to destroy Chronos?"

That seemed to be taking the idea a bit too far and Naizer shook his head sharply. "No. I think he was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing. What he was faking was normalcy." A moment of sharp understanding came to Naizer. "At least, what he _thinks_ is normal." That would certainly explain the way Creed had acted that day at the castle. The genteel host welcoming his guests. He'd been carefully following all the rules of etiquette in a situation that didn't call for good manners. "Maybe that kick to the head he got from Beluga knocked all that out of him."

"Next question, then. Do you think that he poses a threat?"

It was a good question, but it was one Naizer didn't think he could answer accurately. Creed was stark raving insane and the only thing that seemed to be keeping him under any sort of control was his weird affection for Train Heartnet. "If Heartnet dies I'd make sure Creed dies as soon as possible after. I don't know _why_ Creed has this obsession over Heartnet but I do believe it's real. As long as Heartnet is alive and isn't our enemy, Creed will – probably – stay under control." He paused, adding grudgingly, "Even when he was first under my command Creed had a talent for sticking to the point. As long as he had something to focus his attention on, he kept it there, no matter how much his butterfly brain wanted to flit off elsewhere. It was the only reason I didn't tell you to send him back to whatever rock he'd crawled out from under."

With a nod, Sephiria turned back to face the city, eyes distant. "His trainer focused that attention on Train Heartnet," she said quietly. "I erred in not understanding just what that would mean when Train left us."

"Don't feel too guilty about it," Naizer hurried to reassure her. "His trainer should have focused him on someone more trustworthy. You, for instance."

A small smile curved Sephiria's lips and she shook her head. "No. Apparently I resemble Creed's mother physically – and a little bit in personality. It was enough that Creed simply couldn't bear to follow me directly, no matter _how_ good a fighter or leader I am." She glanced, wistfully, Naizer's way and added. "And, frankly, I don't think I could have dealt with having him obsessed with me the way he's obsessed with Train. I don't know how Train can stand it."

"Train Heartnet is, in his own way, as nuts as Creed Diskence," Naizer said finally, then shrugged. "It probably doesn't matter, Sephiria. We're long past any point where we could change Diskence _or_ Heartnet and make them useful to us. If we're not going to kill them, and I know you'd rather not kill Heartnet, then the best we can do is what we _are_ doing." He didn't add that – in _his_ opinion – killing them might have been the wiser course of action. Sephiria had been trying for years to shift the focus of the organization to something more benevolent, something more helpful to the world at large. Part of that shift was the avoidance of killing someone just because they disagreed with Chronos. _That and she's always been a bit sweet on that annoying feline of hers._ Naizer allowed himself a moment of jealousy, then set it aside. "Besides, it's just possible that the Hoshi will make a mistake and attempt to contact him, giving us a chance to get them."

"My thought as well," Sephiria murmured. "I'm glad you agree." She headed towards the stairs leading down. "In any case, now that you're well again, I have work for you. Come along."

Naizer followed his exquisite little leader down the stairs, glad to be back.

To Be Continued...


	25. A Tale of Two Sweepers

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

A TALE OF TWO SWEEPERS

_October 31, 2003 _

Train walked around Creed, eyeing the pale-haired figure. "Well, I suppose you'll pass." The admission was made grudgingly, but Creed seldom managed to look quite as quietly understated as he did this particular morning. Neatly and plainly dressed in a white shirt and black pants, his hair carefully pulled back away from his face, Creed almost looked like a young businessman on his day off. Almost. Not even a simple black tie could make Creed look entirely normal.

_Gotta admit, though, he doesn't look nearly so bewildered or out of it as he did when we went to France._ Train thought Creed might well be getting better at covering up his lunacy without falling back on the old patterns. His housemate smiled uncertainly. "I washed behind my ears and my neck and brushed my teeth." He opened his mouth to show Train. "I shined my shoes. I have a new handkerchief, and a fresh pair of." Whatever he was going to say was stopped by Train's quickly raised hand.

_Well, almost covering up,_ Train corrected himself as Sven snickered. "I'll trust you on the underwear," he told Creed. "You don't have to go into every detail." Especially when one considered just how much detail Creed was capable of providing.

"I was just going to say I have new socks on," Creed said plaintively, "I don't wear."

Sven choked. "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!" He covered his ears and Train couldn't help laughing at his partner's expression. Eve, too, had that look that said that she was the only sane one in the asylum.

Looking offended, Creed glared at Sven, then sighed. "Sorry."

"Never mind. Guess you're as ready as you're going to be. What do you think, Sven?" Train glanced at his partner.

"He's getting a bit long in the hair, don't you think? You want a barber visit, Creed?" Sven asked, picking up his attaché case. "I'll make you an appointment if you do."

It was even money as to whether Creed would take offence but apparently he was in a good mood despite his momentary sulk. "Just for a trim. I think I'll let it grow out a bit." At Train's raised brow, Creed shrugged. "Don't need it short for fighting anymore and I'm not at the hospital." He paused, "If it's okay with you, Train?"

"Why should it matter to me?" At Creed's mildly hurt look, Train winced. "Sorry, phrased that badly. I'm not much on men's fashions, Creed. It's not that I don't care if you look good, just that how you achieve looking good isn't important." Creed still looked a bit crestfallen and he added, "You look fine no matter what you do with your hair."

-

As Creed perked up, Sven shook his head. This was one of those conversations you really couldn't win. Sort of like answering the question 'Does this make me look fat?' If Train acted cavalier about Creed's appearance their housemate would be hurt. If he appreciated it, he ran the risk of encouraging certain emotional reactions.

Rather to Sven's surprise, though, Creed smiled shakily and nodded, managing, somehow to set aside his need for Train's approval and behave himself. Sven gave him a look of approval, pleased at the sign that Creed was improving. It was a bit startling to realize that he was beginning to feel much towards Creed as he did towards Train, if quite a bit less patient. Creed was like a little brother who just wouldn't grow up. _And can't, past a certain point._

Oblivious to Sven's approval, Creed went to the closet and got his coat. It was getting cold outside and Sven hoped that Creed's rooms would be finished before the first snow. The work had started two weeks ago, but in the tradition of construction workers everywhere there were always reasons for delays. "I'm not sure if it looks okay, though," Creed murmured, still on the subject of his hair.

"Ask 'VeeVee'," Eve suggested, as the group headed out the door.

"He I mean '_she_' is out of town. One needed her to do something in China." Train answered the question before Creed could.

Sven frowned. "Hope 'she' has got someone good to keep an eye on the kid. All we need is for that Lugado fellow to try again." With a shrug, he decided not to sweat it too hard. Admittedly, this was a peculiar sort of day – considering that they were going to be leaving Creed with Annette for most of it – but they'd be rejoining him by late afternoon. Lugado Wong might try to take Creed on again, but the middle of the day was a damned bad time for an assassination attempt. "Oh well, no point in worrying about it. Creed, you sure you'll be able to handle this?"

"Annette just needs someone to help her out," Creed pointed out. "I'm not going to be working with the customers much. Just cleaning up and food preparation. I think I'll be okay." He smiled a little, obviously proud of the fact that he was being trusted. "Everything will be fine, Sven. I'm sure of it."

Sven winced. "I just wish _I_ could be."

-

-

Annette fought down a surge of nausea and nodded approvingly at Creed before smiling wanly at Train. "I really appreciate this." She rubbed at her stomach, sitting down as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her face and arms. "I hate having to close the café. The rent doesn't pay itself." As long as she didn't try to move around too much, she felt okay – well mostly okay – enough to direct Creed in the running of the café.

"I'm still not so sure this is a good idea," Train said, watching Creed as he started busying behind the counter. His housemate didn't look up, but Annette could tell he was listening intently. "Are you _sure_ he can handle things?"

"He's helped out in the store before. Not for all day, I admit, but he's cooking well enough to handle my afternoon clientele and I don't have to stand up to handle the information trading part of things. I might lie down in my office for a bit, but he can always come get me if there's an emergency." Annette shrugged, sipping at the ginger tea she'd made to help settle the pain in her belly. "I don't think it'll be a problem."

Sven glanced at his partner. "We already discussed the hell out of this, you know. There's not much point to going on about it now." He gestured at Creed. "Besides, you going to tell the kid he isn't going to be trusted after all?"

"The kid isn't so childish that he doesn't understand," Creed pointed out sourly, glaring at Sven. Then his eyes lit on Train and hope shown in them, "But I really would like to try. Miss Annette's done so much for me and I really want to help her."

Annette smiled at the eager tone in Creed's voice. "It'll be fine, Train."

-

-

Creed wiped the last bit of grease from the stove and rinsed the towel in the sink. The café was empty, meaning that now that the morning rush was over he had nothing much to do. As he hung the towel up to dry he glanced over at Annette. "His dark secret love?" As she raised a brow, he worked out what he'd meant to say. "I mean, are you feeling up to this?"

"I feel lousy, Creed. Given the usual run of these bugs, it may be a day or so before I get better." She typed something into the computer beside her and added, "And I'm not going to die of it, either, so don't look so worried." By which, Creed knew, she'd checked the source of his quote – a William Blake poem – and realized how worried he was about her.

"Perhaps you should knit the ravel'd sleeve of take a nap?"

A soft chuckle escaped Annette's lips and she smiled. "You're getting better about it."

"It's still early," Creed pointed out wryly. "I don't think I'd do this well in the evening. Too much static." Fortunately, he wouldn't have to work on self-control later since Eve was going to help out after she got back from the job she and the other two were doing. He could cook and leave the talking to her.

With a nod, Annette got to her feet. "Your suggestion is a good one, though. I'll go into my office and sleep on the couch. Wake me if you have any problems." As her face turned more than slightly green, she added, "I'll sleep on the couch _after_ I've finished business in the washroom."

-

"So, take my advice on this, Kevin. The best thing we can do is get a good meal before looking for our next job. Luckily, Cait Sith's owner is not only a good cook, but a great source of information."

Kevin sighed as he listened to his companion. River was a good Sweeper and a decent enough partner, but sometimes Kevin had to wonder why he put up with the more experienced blonde's consistent and clueless assumption that Kevin couldn't figure out even the most basic procedures. _Okay, so I've only had a few jobs before we started working together, but I had a good trainer. I wish he'd realize that. How long have we been partners? A whole year? Admittedly, that first job was a complete bust, but._ He made a face, remembering the remote island where the Hoshi and their leader were supposed to be, remembering the tension, the knowledge that at least a hundred before them had failed. All that fear and worry and preparation for nothing, for invading an empty island long since abandoned by the enemy. River had been loudly vociferous in his discussions of what he would do with the weirdo who'd sent them on that wild goose chase.

If it weren't for the fact that he enjoyed River's company – aside from the tendency to patronize – Kevin would have walked off on his own within one week of their rather rocky start. "Annette Pierce, right?" he asked, pointedly. Not that it helped. River just patted him on the head in a congratulatory manner before opening the door. _Maybe if I bit him? _

"Welcome," a soft, light, alto said. "May I help you?" Kevin glanced behind the counter where a pale haired figure was sitting staring at a small television set, clicking the remote so quickly that Kevin thought they must be looking for a specific channel. _That's not Ms. Pierce, surely? I thought she was older._ Despite the grey hair, the stranger wasn't a lot older than himself and River, slimly built, with longish, shaggy hair and pale skin. Only the brows and lashes were dark, putting Kevin in mind of someone, though – just at the moment – he couldn't put his finger on whom.

Setting down the remote, the stranger stood up and smiled a sweet little smile at them, obviously waiting. River didn't hesitate, planting himself at one of the tables near the middle of the empty room. "A pint of your finest, my man. And tell Annette that River is here for some sweet info."

Kevin blinked. He hadn't really realized the waiter was a man, though now that he looked at the slim figure he realized his mistake. The prettiness had fooled him. _Good thing I didn't open my mouth and say 'miss'. Trust River to know better._

The waiter nodded slightly. "Miss Annette can't be disturbed right now," he said quietly. "And, if you don't mind telling me what you consider our finest? I'm afraid I'm rather new at this."

"A beer, my man. A _beer._ Think you can manage that?" Kevin winced at his partner's manners, but to his surprise the waiter didn't take offence. Instead he simply bowed and went over to the beer tap.

Kevin sat down and glanced around the café. It was a pretty, neat and well cared for place. "Wonder what's up with Miss Pierce?" As River shrugged, unconcernedly, leaning back in his chair, Kevin continued trying to work out where he'd seen their waiter's face before. Suddenly it hit him, that job a year ago. The leader of the group that had escaped them entirely. That person's hair was shorter and his expression a lot less pleasant but he was almost certain. He pulled out his Palm Pilot.

"What's up?"

Kevin glanced at his partner. "I know that guy's face," he said in a very soft voice. "Here. Isn't this the same man?" He handed the unit to his friend.

"Awww, c'mon. Don't talk crazy." At Kevin's glare River lowered his tone as he frowned at the PDA. "What would _he_ be doing here at Annette's? Though it does nah can't be."

The waiter came over to the table, a chilled glass in hand. "And yourself, sir?" he asked Kevin quietly as he started to hand River the beer.

"Is there a reason Annette can't come out?" Kevin responded.

The man frowned at Kevin's tone, then smiled in a manner that looked like it was intended to reassure. "She's indisposed. No need to go into the messy details, is there?"

"Why not?" River started to ask, but Kevin stopped him, saying instead, "And you are."

"Her assistant. Is there something wrong?"

The puzzled tone left Kevin confused. Still, he had to know. "Your name?"

"Creed Disk." Dark eyes went wide as the so-called waiter took a step back, expression chagrined. "Er I mean."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ANNETTE, YOU BASTARD?" It was River who roared the question, leaping to his feet and grabbing for the pale-haired man.

-

Training, long past but hammered into Creed's thick skull so hard that it probably would need to be removed entirely from his neck to go away, allowed Creed to dodge the blonde man's grasp. _Oh that's just brilliant. Utterly completely brilliant. You really aren't safe at all on your own, are you, you stupid._ He paused in his self-analysis, the sudden rush of adrenaline at least allowing him to keep his thoughts on the here and now. "I don't suppose there's any chance I could say I was joking?" he offered weakly, dodging again. Somehow he kept the beer from spilling, a feat that he was particularly proud of, all things considered.

The blonde leapt over the table that Creed had rolled over and grabbed a chair. "ANSWER ME!"

"You shouldn't be doing that, sir. Annette wouldn't want her furniture smashed." Creed leapt over the counter, intending to head for the door and the back room, but a sudden instinct made him pull back just before a bullet zinged into the door frame. "Hey!" Beer sloshed on his hand slightly as he did so.

The dark haired young Sweeper had his gun out and aimed Creed's way. His expression wasn't quite so manic as his partner's but it was determined. Creed dodged the blonde again, leaping over the counter, this time avoiding spilling the drink in his hand. "Don't do that!" he yelled at the gunman. "You'll mess up the café!"

"You're not getting away, Diskence." The words were calm and even, determined in a way that told Creed the man meant it. "Where is Annette?"

Creed brought his left arm – shielded in nano-machines – up to block the blonde's next blow. "Cut it out!" he gasped at the younger Sweeper. "If I stay in here will you stop shooting?" As a peculiar, startled, look crossed the young man's face Creed jumped backwards from the blonde and raised his left arm, forming small wings. He wasn't a particularly creative user of the nano-machines, but hanging around Eve had at least given him some ideas of how to use them. _Whoops, backwards._ He hurriedly reshaped them so that the feathers were aimed _at_ the blond Sweeper, rather than himself.

-

River's eyes widened as Creed Diskence's arm transformed. Only long practice and instinct permitted him to use his knuckle-protectors to bat away the fast moving feathers that were being flung his way. Rather to his surprise, instead of frustration or anger the criminal blinked at him in an astonished sort of way and said, "Oh, that's very good. Almost as good as Sven."

Growing a curse, River swung at the man again, eliciting a sharp protest as Creed dodged and River's fist crunched into the wall behind the man. "Stop that. You're making a mess!"

"I'm taking you in, you bastard. If you won't tell _me_ where Annette is, you'll tell the police!" River glanced sideways at his partner who was watching the fight with a confused look. "Aren't you going to help?"

"You're handling him. I'll keep him from getting away," Kevin answered, still looking puzzled. "But he's right. I start shooting in here I'll mess up the place worse than you two are."

Exasperated at the fact that his target wasn't acting the way he thought a wanted criminal should act, River shouted again, "STAND STILL AND TELL ME WHERE ANNETTE IS!" It particularly aggravated him that, throughout all this, Creed had managed to avoid spilling more than a few drops of beer.

"I told you, she's indisposed. Leave her alone." Creed dove over one table and rolled under the next, still holding the glass, still not spilling it. " And I'm not on the wanted list anymore, so would you stop." He stopped, blinking at the television. "oh no"

River took advantage of the moment, striking Creed in the right eye and knocking the man backwards. Rather to his satisfaction Creed finally dropped the beer glass. To his utter amazement, however, the man practically ignored the blow, and the shattered glass, in favor of heading towards the counter. The tinny music playing sounded vaguely familiar and as Creed put his hand on the remote, River grabbed him by the hair, only to have that hair wrap itself around his fingers and the tips drive themselves – lightly – into his skin. "What th"

"Shhh. I've been waiting all morning for this." Creed's hairs released River's hand almost as quickly as they had grabbed it. He was staring at the TV screen, dark eyes rapt and River realized what it was he was watching.

It took River over ten seconds to react. "102 DALMATIONS?"

"Hush. It's starting," Creed scolded. "I haven't had a chance to see it yet."

"You're kidding, right? You're going to ignore someone trying to take you in so you can watch _that_ tripe?"

-

Creed glanced at his attacker, irritated. "How am I supposed to know if it's tripe or not? I just said I haven't seen it!" He ducked the blow aimed his way. "Come on. Let me watch. I'm not going anywhere."

The blonde Sweeper pointed at the TV. "It's been out for years now."

"So? It's not like I had time when I was with the Hoshi and I spent most of last year in the loony bin." Creed barely attended to the Sweeper's reaction, being more interested in watching the opening credits. "ELLA? Now that's just silly."

Leaning on the counter beside Creed, the blonde gazed at the screen. "The first live-action was bad enough."

Reaching up with his left hand, Creed reshaped it into a gag. "Wanna watch, not listen to you gripe. Shut up." As the Sweeper pulled back, Creed let him go. "Still want a beer?"

"Uh yeah."

"I'll charge you for two. And the broken glass," Creed pointed out and ignored the grumbling that followed as he clambered over the counter during the commercial break and filled another glass, handing it to the other man wordlessly as the movie started up again. "And don't whine. It was your fault the first one got broken."

-

_This is seriously weird._ Kevin watched his partner and their former target staring at the TV, the one muttering unpleasant remarks about the movie and the other impatiently hushing him, occasionally pulling that bit of weirdness with his left hand. _What the hell is going on here?_

Deciding that only one person could answer, and that – since River had seemed to have forgotten about her – he was the only one left to check, Kevin went through the door into the back room, unnoticed by the other two.

An odor hit him immediately when he reached the office in the far back of the building. The sour smell of someone having been sick. On the couch a woman lay, her greying hair limp and sweat soaked, her eyes closed and her face pale. "Miss Annette? What did he _do_ to you? Did he poison you?"

Opening her eyes, Annette blinked at Kevin for a long moment. "Do I know you Oh, wait. I remember. Kevin, right?" At his nod, she frowned. "Why are you back here? Does Creed know"

"Creed is too busy watching TV with River to pay attention to me," Kevin answered, kneeling beside the older woman. "Did he hurt you?"

"Hurt me? Wha?" Suddenly light dawned. "Oh no. Oh damn. I never even thought Stupid of me. He's helping out." At Kevin's stunned expression she added, "Didn't you know the Want was closed? He's on the protected list now." She winced, leaning over into the bucket beside her to gag painfully. "Drat this flu." Her weary tone spoke of long hours spent hovering over that bucket.

Kevin picked up the bucket when she finished. "I'll clean it up," he told the sick woman. "And we'll take care of things up front." At her chagrinned expression, he added, "It's our own fault. We thought he'd hurt you. The way he was talking." Now that he thought about it, though, it wasn't what Creed had said, nor even how he'd said it, so much as the fact that it was Creed Diskence who'd said it at all that had worried him. "Don't worry, Miss Annette," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I'll make sure nothing else happens."

-

As the credits rolled, River sat back. "There? You see? Total tripe. Dreck. A complete and utter waste of time." He glared at the pale-haired man sitting behind the counter frowning. "The animation was the classic."

"Well, strictly speaking, the _book_ was the classic."

"C'mon. The book was based on the movie!" River protested.

"No, not the movie adaptations. The movie was based on Dodie Smith's book." Creed shook his head, looking pityingly at River, much to the blonde's annoyance. "Don't you read?"

River growled at the man across from him and decided to change the subject. "Never mind that. Are you going to tell me what you did with Annette?"

"He didn't do _anything_ to her." It was Kevin, who had been quietly moving around behind the two of them for the last hour and a half. River suddenly realized that his junior partner was busily cleaning up the mess he and Creed had made. The dark haired man shook his head at the two of them. "She's got the flu and he's covering the counter for her."

"Huh? What d'ya mean, he's covering the counter? What is a wanted criminal doing." River's voice rose angrily he stood up.

"He's not wanted anymore."

"YOU just showed me the poster!"

Kevin sighed, a long-suffering sort of sigh that River had long since become accustomed to. "River, I showed you the last poster I had. Remember, we haven't updated for six months now, owing to our little detour in Russia. He was taken off the lists two months ago."

River stared, first at Kevin, then at Creed, who shrugged. "I _tried_ to tell you."

Continuing, tone taking on that lecturing note that River hated, Kevin shook his head. "He's not just off the Wants, he's on the Avoid at All Costs. We bring him in, we're likely to get tossed out on our ears _and_ fined."

"Why?" River spun on Creed and glared at him accusingly. "How'd you, of all people, get off the list? And onto the AVOID list?"

"Time off for good behavior?" Creed's tone had a sweetly confused note to it that made River stare, wide-eyed, at him. It was beginning to hit him now, the sheer insanity of the last hour and a half. He'd just watched a movie, a _children's_ movie, for God's sake, with a man who'd been the leader of a vicious criminal organization. _This is too weird._

"According to Annette, he has a guardian," Kevin said quietly. "As long as he behaves himself, stays under that guardian's control, and doesn't contact his former compatriots, he's to be left alone."

_Deep breath. Take a deep breath and chill._ At last River managed, "A guardian. Who the hell would take crazy man here and act as his guardian?"

"That would be me."

-

"There was FLOOD A plague of locusts! It's not my fault. I'M SORRY!"

Train looked down at his housemate as Creed kneeled and stared up pleadingly at him. and forced himself not to laugh. _Now that one I recognize. Wonder when he got to see Blues Brothers._ Putting as much stern authority in his voice as he was capable of – admittedly not much – he asked, "Why didn't you just get Annette? Even if that guy was firing at you, you could have yelled for her." He gestured at the dark-haired Sweeper who blinked, flushed bright red and glanced guiltily at the bullet holes in the doorframe.

"I" Creed looked deeply abashed. "Didn't think of that."

"That's the trouble with you, Creed. You _don't_ think," Sven added, examining the damage done to the wall while Eve picked up a metallic-looking feather and examined it carefully. At last she nodded approvingly and began sweeping the rest up. It was a tribute to Creed's guilty embarrassment that he didn't defend himself from Sven's accusation.

"River really didn't give him a chance to think."

"KeVIN!"

Train was hard put not to laugh out loud as he pulled Creed to his feet and listened to the beginning of an argument between the two other Sweepers. "Guys, it's obvious what happened. We should have warned Creed to expect something like this." The look of utter relief on Creed's face was oddly satisfying, the expression of a child who truly thought he was in trouble realizing he wasn't. "It's okay," he said in a softer voice, reminding himself that Creed still wasn't all that good about being teased. "It's as much our fault as yours. None of us considered what you should do if someone tried to take you in."

The sound of more arguing drew Train's attention back to the two other Sweepers. River and Kevin were yelling at each other, much to Sven's obvious amusement. "Sound familiar?" the tall blonde mouthed while the two younger men fought. Train shrugged off-handedly, pushing their housemate back towards the counter. "I'll go check on Annette. You take care of things back there. It's getting close to her busy hour and I bet you haven't got anything ready that needs to be."

Creed nodded, skirting the argumentative pair and, joined by Eve, began cleaning up the kitchen area.

-

-

Train ambled along, sniffing the late autumn air. "That went a lot better than it could have," he noted. "Though it's amazing what kind of trouble you can cause just by being you."

"Cry havoc and let loose the Dobermans of war," Creed agreed bemusedly.

With a snort, Sven muttered, "Creed. You are _not_ a Doberman. You're one of those annoying little lap dogs that are constantly peeing in someone's lap or biting the mailman. The sort that like to take your leg to the dance."

Train chuckled. "Not going there, Sven. Besides, I may have defanged him, but he's still capable of more damage than that."

"Hmph." Creed gave Sven a sour glare. "I am my Master's dog, it's true. I pray thee sir, what dog are you?"

"Probably a Golden Retriever," Eve murmured thoughtfully. "Slow to anger and loyal to their family." She glanced at Creed. "Even the annoying ones, I think."

The pale-haired man considered that for a long moment. "Okay."

"Okay? Just _okay_?" Sven stared. "No weird-ass quote from a movie or book no one but you has read? No arguments?"

Creed shrugged. "T'is naught but truth, concealed behind a lie." He paused, seemed to think very hard and carefully and added. "In other words, I agree with her."

Glancing the pale-haired man's way, Train caught a faint, peaceful, smile on Creed's face. He chuckled, particularly as he could see Sven trying to work out whether or not he'd been complimented. "Anyway," he said after a moment. "I won't say you did perfectly, but you did pretty good by yourself today." Before Creed could panic, he added, "Not that I expect you to be on your own all the time. That's asking too much. For one thing, you only just got out. For another."

"Real isn't how you are made." Creed's voice was soft and sad. "It's a thing that happens to you."

Train opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and – after a few repetitions of this – Creed added, "Sorry."

It took Train a few minutes to work out an adequate answer. "No. Never mind, Creed. It's late, you're tired. You don't know where to stop." He sighed. "Besides, I know how you feel, even if I don't understand it."

"Anyway," Sven said, changing the subject quickly, "Aside from that one problem, I have to agree, you did pretty good this afternoon. Your cooking especially."

A big grin crossed Train's face. "Yeah. In fact, you can make supper for us now. How about that meatloaf."

"Meatloaf?" Creed eyed Train with a puzzled air.

"Two nights ago. You know."

"That was a paté!"

"Paté, meatloaf. What's the dif?" Train wandered on, laughing as Creed made dying fish faces. "C'mon. Whatever you want to call it, I'm _hungry_." As he set off running, quickly followed by his pale-haired housemate, Train grinned. He was going to have fun with this.

To Be Continued...


	26. How to Succeed in Mailing Lists without ...

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

HOW TO SUCCEED IN MAILING LISTS WITHOUT REALLY TRYING

_November 13, 2003 _

"Doesn't look like much," Sven gazed around the refurbished attic as he spoke, shaking his head. "But if it's the way _you_ like it." Nearly empty of furniture, lit by a sequence of skylights, the pale wood gleamed a soft gold. The wardrobe at one end and roll-top desk at the other were the only furniture, both dark mahogany pieces that Creed's uncle had sent him from France. Getting the things in had been an exercise in logistics but he had to admit they looked pretty good.

Dark eyes satisfied, Creed smiled. "All the comforts of home." He stepped out onto the porch that had been created by cutting a hole in the roof and the others followed, Train pausing to examine the doorway onto the porch. "Now I see what you were talking about." The hole cut into the roof had opened out a square of attic space that had then been blocked off by upright walls and door. Creed and Sven had tried to make Train understand the plan but with limited success.

"Guess we're going to have a white-crested loon perched on the roof even _more_ often," Sven muttered, eliciting another of those sweet little smiles from Creed. He actually didn't mind Creed's habit of roosting all that much, but he _did_ enjoy pulling at the pale-haired man's chain. "The roll-away awning's a good idea. I don't much like the idea of water collecting up here. My room is right below here, after all."

Eve knelt and pointed at the carefully designed grating that covered the floor of the porch. "We worked that out," she explained. "There's a pipe that carries rainwater to the gutter. As long as everything is sealed properly, there shouldn't be a problem."

Sven grinned wryly. "Oh, all right. I have to admit I approve." He glanced through the doorway and back at the room. "What about a bed?"

"I'll be using a futon," Creed answered, going back inside and opening the wardrobe. Inside, folded neatly in the shelves beside Creed's clothing was a folded pad and bedding. "This gives me more room to move around."

Train grinned, "Not to mention the ability to plop yourself onto that porch in good weather, if I know you." At Creed's tiny, happy, smile Sven's partner chuckled. "It looks good, Creed, Eve. A little sparse, but I don't remember you having a lot of stuff even back when we were partners."

"Blades, blades and more sharp blades," Creed corrected. "But not here." He had a faintly regretful air, but quickly shrugged it off to look pleadingly at Train. "I don't want anything more except maybe"

"Maybe?"

"Could I have a computer? And internet access?"

-

Creed held his breath. Eve hadn't held much hope for his desire and – to tell the truth – neither did he. Internet access was pushing the envelope of his 'freedom' rather hard, giving him an opportunity to do things that wouldn't necessarily have Train's approval. That wasn't his intent, certainly, but they couldn't know that.

Before Sven could give an absolute 'no', Train asked. "What would you do with it?"

"Research recipes. Research. Email you when you're away." Creed winced at Train's expression. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He bit at his lip. "I swear I wouldn't contact the Hoshi. Or email you more than once a day. I'm not Kyoko. I know it would bother you."

Train sighed. "I'm not saying no just yet." He glanced at Sven. "You could set up parental controls."

"Yeah. But."

Creed turned away. "No. No, I've asked too much. I." It wasn't like he _had_ to have access to be happy or even content.

A hand touched Creed's shoulder. "Why do you want it?" Train's question was quiet and gentle. "It wouldn't matter so much to you if you didn't really want it badly."

It seemed impossible to properly explain his reasons and Creed hesitantly whispered. "TV's too loud. I need distraction. It gets too quiet sometimes Late at night."

Sven asked, puzzledly, "I don't understand. I thought you hide on the roof because you don't like a lot of distractions."

With a shrug, Creed answered, "Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't." As a strange expression crossed the others' faces he paused, realizing what he'd said. Embarrassedly he added, "That was more apropos than usual, wasn't it?"

With a laugh, Train ruffled his hair, and he gave his beloved a smile. "Yeah. But the point's made, right Sven? Sometimes Creed needs quiet, other times he needs things to keep busy with." As Sven nodded agreement, Train continued, "Frankly, I have reservations, but I also don't want this to turn into a kind of prison for you. Within limitations I'd rather let you have some freedom. I'm your guardian. I'm not your jailer."

-

-

_November 17, 2003 _

Sven sat beside Creed at his new computer. "Let's start with getting you an email address."

"Oh, I have one." Creed turned huge dark eyes on Sven, who couldn't help but stare. "

Sven just continued staring and his expression apparently made Creed nervous. "Doctor's orders. I mean, Doctor set it up for me when I lead the Hoshi." He pulled up a website onto the browser software and entered his name. "See? Oh my. I really should have asked Eve to clear it out more often. It's Kyoko's fault. She keeps sending me every silly joke she finds on the web."

After a second of staring at the screen filled with email posts, Sven took a deep breath. "You know, one of the things that irritates me most about you is your tendency to keep important details to yourself." At Creed's startled stare, Sven continued, "Details like the fact that you're richer than Croesus. Like the fact that Eve's been handling your computer affairs. What all has she been doing?"

"Just checking for any important email. She was supposed to tell you if there was anything relating to the Hoshi. Kyoko's the only one who mails me now and that's because she doesn't know I quit. No one else has been bothering." The soft, scared voice reminded Sven that Creed didn't know any better. "I'm sorry. It didn't seem that important."

Scanning through the headers in the mailing, "How much of this have you ever bothered to read?"

"Not much. Kyoko's idea of a sense of humor isn't very funny to me." Creed shrugged. "I never used it much, Sven. It's mostly junk mail. I really don't need my breasts enlarged. Or my penis, for that matter." He paused a moment and added, "And I still don't know why I keep getting golf ads."

For a long moment Sven considered the matter, grinning a bit at the thought of Creed on a golf course. _Talk about mass hysteria_. Then he began typing, searching for data on At Creed's puzzled expression, Sven explained, "I just want to know who owns them."

Creed looked puzzled for a moment longer, then a look of understanding crossed his face. "Oh. You think it belongs to the Hoshi? No. Doctor just figured it for a name we'd have no trouble remembering." He paused, then added, "I think he paid for the service, but the email goes somewhere in China."

After a bit, Sven sighed. "Y'know, I'm probably going to regret this and it may be a bloody bad decision, but go ahead and keep it. You know it already and it's easiest. I don't think anyone will believe you're who you say you are." _That and if he tries anything with the Hoshi I'll have a chance at catching him at it._ Sven doubted that anything of the sort would result - Creed wasn't that stupid – but he wasn't going to ignore the possibility.

Creed nodded and Sven continued, "Now, you understand I've set this computer up so that everything it does gets logged and sent to that controller computer downstairs in my office. It'll delay any mail you send or receive that doesn't have a code from my computer. I'd include Eve but she's not got enough experience under her belt."

"All right." A sweet, happy, smile crossed Creed's face as he caressed the keyboard. "But I can read websites, right? Just not post to them."

"Exactly. If there's something you need to post, you'll need to come downstairs to do it and one of us will chaperone you. You okay with that?"

"You're my keepers," Creed answered, wryly. "It's okay with me."

-

-

_November 27, 2003 _

It took Creed some time to work up the courage to do more than join the cooking mailing list that Annette was on. At last, though, a question came up regarding Japanese knives and he finally had an opportunity to actually post something useful.

Leaning over his shoulder, Train considered the message Creed had prepared. "You're a walking database," Train murmured. "I think maybe you'll overwhelm them with all that. Just tell them that particular knife is used to slice sushi and that it'll need to be sharpened frequently."

Creed eyed the mail he was preparing to send and tried hard to ignore the warmth of the body beside him. It was so easy to be distracted by Train's physical presence sometimes. _Not to mention the scent of him. It just isn't fair._ He shook himself and forced himself to focus on what he was doing. "I just want to be thorough." He sighed. "This is like the tree, isn't it? The hole's too deep."

"Tree? Oh, the one at the asylum. Yeah. Probably." Train grinned at Creed. "You don't have to dig a hole to China to get the job done, Creed." He watched Creed carefully consider the edits and finally nodded. "That should do it."

Creed hit send, and, for the first time in his life, set off a war that he had never intended to cause.

-

-

_November 30, 2003_

Thinking about it later, Train had to admit that his own inexperience was at fault. He hadn't realized just how seriously some people took their fields of endeavor, or their personal reputations as Chief Know-it-all on the cooking mailing list. Annette informed him a day later that if he didn't want Creed involved in a flame war, permitting his housemate to respond to anything from the poster calling himself Verdant wasn't a good way to go about it.

Apparently Verdant knew quite a bit but not nearly as much as he thought – or pretended – he knew. Creed's mild correction as to the nature of certain specific types of knives and the absolute necessity of sharpening them with a water stone instead of the usual methods set the man off.

It actually surprised Train to realize that Creed wasn't bothered, angered or even impressed by the unpleasant comments Verdant was making regarding the newbie. After the first few efforts to defuse the situation had failed, Train finally decided to let Creed say what he wanted to say. It was just plain a good thing that no one believed Creed was the _real_ Creed.

"No, Kotetsu _was_ a famous swordsmith, but there are a number of blades out there that are made in the _manner_ of Kotetsu. I was able to acquire an original and while the imitations aren't nearly as exquisite as Kotetsu's work, there are several examples that are more than adequate to most purposes. Though I wouldn't suggest using them to block bullets without special training. While my original could have stood up to it, the imitation couldn't. And even the original would be badly damaged if the bullet struck it at the right angle." Creed paused and glanced at Train worriedly. "Is that too much information?"

Train thought about it. Anything that reminded Creed of the day he'd killed Saya left his housemate worried and doubtful, so his willingness to even mention what Saya's bullet had done to his favorite weapon seemed to Train to be a sign of healing. It didn't mean that Creed understood – yet – why what he'd done was wrong but it did mean that he was willing to think about it. _At least I hope that's what it means._ He nodded. "I think it's okay. You're not giving any particulars after all."

With a smile, Creed turned back to the keyboard and typed some more. "I would swear phuquehead should be spelled fuckhead. Is this a new spelling I've not come across before?"

Train nearly fell off his chair, only stopping his laughter when he realized that Creed was asking the question seriously. "I think he's just trying to be cute," the Sweeper said after a moment.

"Oh. Should I remove the question then?"

Train shook his head. "Nah. It might get him hotter under the collar, but it's a reasonable question." Looking at Creed, he added, "This stuff doesn't bother you?"

"Oh, no." Creed smiled back. "He's had some good points about the Roman swords. I never liked those much so I hadn't bothered to study them. Oh, you mean the things he calls me?" The dark eyes glanced at the screen momentarily and his expression clouded. "A little, I suppose. Only a little. They're just written words. I've been called much worse." He glanced at Train and smiled wanly. "It'd bother me very much if he were in my face. Especially when he called me useless garbage. I don't like that."

"You're not useless _or_ garbage, Creed. Don't ever believe it and don't ever let someone else make you believe it." Train put a hand on Creed's shoulder and felt the muscles underneath loosen. "Don't worry. I'm inclined to let you keep up with this. I think you need an outlet. Even Sven can see you're enjoying yourself."

-

-

_November 30, 2003 _

Fred Phelps was puzzled and more than a little confused. It had started innocently enough. A newbie on the cooking mailing list he'd joined a year back had posted a correction to an answer on a particular type of Japanese cooking knives. As far as Fred could tell, the newbie knew what he was talking about. Unfortunately, accuracy alone wasn't much help against a person like Verdant. Fred had long since learned to ignore the man, whose belligerence and fondness for ripping newbies to shreds was legend on the mailing list.

_It's just too bad that the moderator gave up on us,_ Fred thought, scanning through the thread and rolling his eyes at some of the tangents it had taken. Throughout it, though, was the name Creed Diskence. Whomever this character was – and it couldn't possibly be the _real_ Creed – he was either a brilliant troll or an idiot. _No. Not an idiot. Idiocy would be leaping to its own defense and running scared by now._ Fred had seen it happen far too many times not to know the signs. No, this 'Creed' was intelligent, though his areas of expertise seemed extremely limited. Where he was ignorant, he freely admitted it. Where he felt he knew the answer, though, he simply stated it and never bothered repeating himself. When directly contradicted he either stated that he'd already given his opinion and that he had nothing more to say, or he accepted a correction if he felt it was valid.

_He's also off-beat, funny in a peculiar sort of way, and driving Verdant straight into a bat cage._ That alone was enough to make him likeable in Fred's book. Verdant was the list's chief irritant. Smart and knowledgeable but not nearly as knowledgeable as he wanted the list to believe. Unfortunately, there was no one on the list anymore able to ban the fellow, or his sycophants, the moderator having long since given up and disappeared. Fred had only stuck around as long as he had because he'd made some friends on the list and because – despite its tendency to wander around topics completely uninvolved in cooking, he'd learned quite a bit since his retirement as a Sweeper.

Puzzling over the question of the newbie, Fred decided that this so-called Creed had to be a very young teenager. He was bright, possibly quite a bit brighter than he seemed sometimes, with a peculiar sense of humor and an exceedingly good memory. His extensive knowledge of weaponry was, no doubt, due to a frequent tendency of young men to adore the weapons that they'd never have a chance or reason to wield. His understanding of cookery was limited, but he showed every sign of understanding that fact and being willing to learn. That he was a good friend's student solidified Fred's opinion, of course. Annette and he had worked together on a number of jobs in the past and he trusted her judgment.

_Harmless,_ Fred decided at last. _And amusing. I think I'll keep an eye on this boy's posts. After all, it's not like he's the _real_ Creed Diskence. Annette wouldn't have taken him as her apprentice, otherwise._

To Be Continued


	27. The Scream

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE SCREAM

_December 5, 2003 _

The sound of a horrifying shriek, then something crashing upstairs brought Sven to his feet. _Creed. What the hell?_ Throwing open the door he went up the ladder to Creed's room in record time and was immediately forced to dodge sideways as a pale haired figure went flying past him, sobbing wildly. He tried to snatch at Creed's arm but simply couldn't move fast enough.

Staring around the room he saw the source of the crash, the monitor to Creed's computer had been smashed, quite obviously by its owner's fist. In the painfully neat and tidy garret, the shattered glass and pieces of plastic scattered over the desk and floor stood out horribly. "What the hell?"

"Is Creed all right?" Eve's voice came from the entrance as she climbed up part-way through the trap door. "I heard a crash."

"I don't know," Sven growled. "He has some explaining to do. Look at this mess!" He felt sharply angry. Creed had been so well behaved lately, but if this was a sign that the man's mind was going again then something would have to be done.

Eve climbed the rest of the way and picked a safe path to the computer. "It must have been something he was doing on the computer to make him attack it this way. He loves getting email from Train, Sven. I don't think he'd do anything to damage it without a really good reason."

"Or what constitutes a good reason in that tiny messed up brain of his," Sven grumbled, but had to admit that Eve was right. The absolute delight Creed seemed to take in having a way to contact Train rivaled Kyoko's overuse of Train's cell-phone number to send loving messages some time back. _At least he doesn't send twenty at a time. And he likes being trusted enough to behave himself with the thing. Doesn't make sense that he'd ruin that. Maybe I shouldn't have turned off the block. But I don't have time to go through all the crap mailings he gets to find what's legitimate._

The decision hadn't been an easy one to make, but after leaving on a job for a week to find Creed's mail-box filled to capacity and Creed himself fidgety and looking pathetically lonely Sven had realized that blocking his messages simply didn't work out. In the end he and Xiao Li had come to an agreement that the monitoring computer would transmit a copy of everything Creed sent or received to another computer belonging to Chronos. Sven had a sneaking suspicion that Xiao Li was keeping up with Creed's mailings simply for the sheer entertainment factor.

Eve knelt beside the computer and used her hair to connect herself up. Sven nearly asked why she didn't use the monitor computer downstairs but figured out that she was in a hurry. "No surprise, he was in the mail program." She concentrated. "Some spam. Ick. I didn't think that was physically possible. We ought to see about getting him some spam guard, Sven – he's not old enough to be looking at stuff like this."

"Eve. _You're_ not old enough to be looking at stuff like that, if it's the sort of thing I think it is." Sven shook his head. "Besides, unless it were a nude picture of Train I doubt he'd care two hoots for the thing." He would have continued in that vein, but Eve went silent, jerking free of the computer suddenly and staring at it angrily. "What? What is it?"

"Well. _That_ explains it." Eve looked furious. "Who the hell did it?" At Sven's irritated expression, she pointed at the computer. "There's an email – supposedly from Train – that has a pointer to a web-site. I just checked it out. There's an animated .GIF of someone's dining room. It stays that way for a bit, then changes to a picture of someone screaming, while a wave file of a scream is played."

"Oh, that thing. I've seen it before. It's pretty stupid. You'd have to be a complete idiot" Sven stopped. "Oh lord. Not necessarily a complete idiot – just ignorant and trusting and naïve. Poor kid." He frowned. "Train wouldn't send him something like that. He can be a jerk but he knows that's not the kind of joke Creed would understand."

"It wasn't from Train. I'll have to do some searching through the headers to find it, but I think I can. You'd better find Creed. Keep him from going ballistic on the garden or something." Eve looked worried. "We can't blame him for what he did, but he doesn't know that."

-

-

Creed curled up under the basement stairs, staring blankly at nothingness, not seeing the spider sitting a few centimeters from his nose and barely aware of the dust. He'd screwed up. He'd screwed up entirely. He was a bad boy and he was going to be punished.

"Non." Without even noticing he was doing so, he was rocking back and forth, rather to the annoyance of the spider. " Please. No. I'll be good, Namma. I'll be good. Please don't be mad Please come back. Namma. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. " A howl escaped him as he screamed, " I DIDN'T MEAN IT! COME BACK NAMMA! "

"Hey."

The voice behind him ought to have been one he knew. Somewhere in his head a tiny part of him tried to recognize it, but that part was being completely overwhelmed by guilt and fear and unhappiness. He curled in on himself more, trying to pull himself into a tiny ball and failing. At this final insult the spider leaped off its webbing and ran off to look for a quieter place where two-leggers didn't try to entangle themselves in one's traps.

A hand touched Creed's shoulder. "Creed. Calm down. We know why you did it. You couldn't help it."

Somehow he managed to come to himself enough to speak to the owner of that hand instead of to someone long forgotten. "No. Bad. I'm bad. Bad boys go to the basement and never ever come out. I've been bad. Been so bad. She screamed at me. Been bad. Been so very bad. Killed her. So bad"

"She? Who? Creed, it was an email. That was all." The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. "A stupid animated .GIF that shows someone screaming and makes a loud noise. It's supposed to scare you. It worked. It's not your fault." A moment of doubt seemed to assail the speaker. "Who did you kill?"

"Namma. Killed her. She screamed and fell down and she wouldn't get up and I killed her."

-

Sven stared down at the trembling figure in front of him. _I knew it. He's done something horrible, hasn't he?_ He paused, thinking about that hard. _Or has he? It can't be recent._ "Who's Namma?" The name was the kind of thing a child would call someone. Creed's voice was even more childish than it usually was, as if he was reliving something from a very distant past.

"My Grandmere." The soft voice was beginning to quiet down, as if just having someone to talk to was enough to anchor Creed back in reality. Train probably would have had him out a lot faster, but if Sven wasn't a close friend and certainly not dearly beloved, it seemed he was good enough in a moment of desperation. Whatever trauma it was that had been reawakened by that stupid joke was something Creed _wanted_ to escape. Wanted to overcome, or at least that was what Sven sensed.

"You were just a kid then. Are you saying you did something to kill her?"

"I wished she was dead and she died. She screamed and she died." The voice became a touch calmer and Sven knew that the shock of whatever memory had been resurrected was being overcome as Creed's mind – aided by the adrenaline in his system – took back control of the situation. "That's silly. I couldn't have killed her that way If If I could kill someone just by wishing it"

"I'd probably have died years ago. Not to mention every Number in Chronos, and their leadership," Sven answered, hearing sanity beginning to return to Creed's thoughts. _Well, maybe not sanity,_ Sven thought wryly. _But a lot more awareness than he had when I came down here. Makes you wonder, really, what he'd be like if the brain damage hadn't blown his mind to Never-never land?_

Slowly Creed sat up, looked at Sven, still trembling. "I'm sorry. I made a scene, didn't I?"

"Under the circumstances, I think you're allowed. But that monitor is coming out of your allowance. Ready to come upstairs?" At Creed's nod, Sven worked his way out from under the stairs and waited for his housemate to follow suit. "Eve's tracing the email. You know it wasn't from Train, don't you?"

"Of course. Train would never have been _that_ mean to me," Creed answered as he – very shakily – made his way up the stairs. "Not that way, at least. He makes fun of me all the time, but that was a pretty cruel kind of joke to play on someone in my condition."

Sven shook his head. "It's hard to believe you're in any sort of condition when your brain snaps into place like that." He grinned as he followed Creed into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate, I presume?"

"Damn right. One hell of a big cup. With _lots_ of sugar. Want one?" At Sven's nod, Creed got a second cup out. "I'd appreciate these moments of clarity more if they weren't usually accompanied by a pulse rate about three times normal," he noted tiredly. "My hands are shaking." His voice softened into a tiny child tone. "And I can't kill anyone to make me feel better."

Sven winced but decided not to take the pale-haired man to task. The remark sounded more like a mild regret than an active need. _Or a poorly timed joke._ Instead he took the cup from Creed's hand. "Here. I'll make the cocoa. You sit down. You think you can talk about what you were telling me down there? Or is it going to send you into another conniption fit?" Sven forced Creed into a seat and started the milk boiling. "I'll understand if you can't think about it right now."

"No. It's not as bad as all that. But I think I know now why I don't like the basement." Creed was trembling with more than reaction. "Namma She's the one who took care of me Mummy and Daddy didn't see me much. She told me stories and they used to scare me. I'd get mad at her I remember now and she'd get mad at me and tell me even scarier stories. I think we were a lot alike. Bad tempers. Arrogant. But I loved her." Creed closed his eyes, fidgeting nervously and rubbing his hands together. "I doubt I could tell you this normally. All that adrenaline's holding off the panic."

"You said she screamed and died."

"We were having a fight. I don't know how old I was. Maybe my Uncle would know. She grabbed at her chest. It wasn't a scream. More like she was choking. Now that I think about it it must have been a heart attack. I didn't know what to do. There was no one to help. I thought I'd killed her."

-

Sven set a steaming cup of cocoa in front of Creed and sat down in the chair across from him, leaning on the pine table with a considering look on his face. "Traumatic, but not villainous. Not like"

"No," Creed shook his head, feeling the danger that discussing _those two_ would create. "Not ready. Never _be_ ready," he sighed. He sipped at the cocoa, using the nano-machines in his tongue to protect himself from the heat. As time went on he became more and more a nano-machine colony. He was, actually, rather looking forward to the day that they took over completely. _Just to get it over with. Sometimes I itch all over._ He noted absently that a piece of glass was stuck in the back of his left hand and picked it out, the nano-machines sealing themselves off quickly as he did so.

Sven ignored the action ostentatiously, apparently not wanting to think about what Creed had done. "Okay. Sorry. I admit to curiosity, but not so much as to send you into a berserkergäng. How's the cocoa?"

Creed smiled, soothed as always by the sweet taste of chocolate. "Good. Hits the spot. Best part of going to sleep."

"I see the adrenaline level's dropping," Sven laughed.

"Like a rock," Creed agreed, a bit happier now. "Sven? Thank you. I might prefer Train to you for comfort, but."

"Any old port in a storm. Got it." Sipping his cocoa and wincing when he burned himself, Sven continued. "Once we find out who sent that thing, we can decide what to do about it."

"It was Janos." Eve's voice at the door way was grim and more than mildly annoyed. "It took some doing, but I traced it back to him finally." She came over to Creed and held out the phone. "I called Train and told him what happened. I thought you might like to talk to him."

_Now that's an understatement. Sven's not as bad a substitute for trauma moments like this, but_ "Train?" Creed only just noticed the little-boy tone his voice had taken on, but he winced at it as he realized what he was doing. Somehow he made himself talk more normally. "Wait I'm sorry, Train. I _am_ glad to hear from you."

Train's voice was tinny, but blessedly familiar and dear to him. "Hey Creed. Eve tells me you got attacked by your monitor. I hope you gave it a good what for."

Breathless, relieved now that Train wasn't going to be angry, Creed managed a chuckle. "Oh yes I showed it who's boss. It won't be showing me any more nasty pictures again."

"Really should stop putting your name in for those porn sites, Creed."

Another weak chuckle, then Creed whispered. "I'm sorry for the trouble, Train."

"Don't be. Eve told me who sent it. I don't think he did it maliciously – but Janos is well he's a lot like me, but a bit more thoughtless."

"Is that possible?" Creed couldn't help but ask.

"Hah. Now I know you're getting better, you can talk like that to me." At Creed's silence, Train added, "I know, just 'cause you know I'm not perfect doesn't mean you don't still care about me. I'm not expecting it to. But it _is_ sort of nice not to have you treat everything I do like the pronouncements of God." He chuckled. "Anyway, let me have a word with Sven quick. I want to check an idea I have with him."

-

Sven listened to Train talk for several minutes, not at all sure what he thought of what Train was saying. Still, Chronos was supposed to leave Creed alone. _Well, except for 'VeeVee' keeping an eye on him, that is._ Janos' little joke could have had serious repercussions in the household if Creed hadn't been so much better than he used to be. A year ago Creed might have hurt someone in his terror.

"Okay. I agree. Shall I tell him?"

"Nah. I will. Pass me back to him." As Sven handed the phone over, he wondered what Creed would make of the idea.

Watching the pale-haired man, Sven felt a sharp surge of anger at Janos. Creed had looked so utterly terrified, down there in the basement. The place he feared and hated so much that even the mention of the word would send him into conniptions and he'd run there immediately, taking the punishment he thought was due him.

_Poor cuss. And to be so traumatized by something so far in the past. Most people get over things like that. He's never had a chance to with that brain damage and someone's idiotic idea of training._ The more he saw of Creed's efforts to deal with his lunacy, the more he respected the strength of will that was driving the man. _All right, so it's pretty much powered by that obsession of his over Train, but not even _that_ would have been enough if Creed himself didn't desire some sort of stability, some sort of peace of mind._

"I don't know what to say" Creed's voice was confused. "I'm not even sure how" Train must have said something reassuring for he smiled, an incredibly sweet, happy smile. "All right. I'll try." He paused another moment and the smile shifted to one of pure mischief. "Oh I just had an idea. No I'll talk to Eve about it. If she thinks it can be done, I want it to be a surprise."

Sven had to wonder just what Creed was coming up with and decided suddenly that he didn't want to know. It had to do with nano-machines, he suspected, or Creed wouldn't be asking for Eve's help.

At last Creed said, "Okay. Goodbye Take care of yourself, Train."

As Creed hung up, a peculiar foolish little grin on his face, Sven raised a brow. "I don't want to know. Just remember. You can get back at him as long as you do nothing to hurt or kill him."

That other grin came back. "I understand. Eve? I should clean up that mess upstairs. Could you come with me so I can explain my idea? See if there's anything wrong with it? Or if I can even do it at all?"

"Gladly," Eve said, finishing the cocoa she'd poured for herself and standing up. As the two left the room Sven shook his head and wondered if letting Creed get back at Janos at all was a good idea. _Well, if nothing else, I can trust Eve to keep it from getting dangerous. But why am I almost sorry for Janos? _

To Be Continued...


	28. Intermezzo: Annealment House

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: ANNEALMENT HOUSE

_December 8, 2003 _  
"Maybe you should just hypnotize me. _Make_ me remember"

It was an idea, but not, Doctor Jones felt, a good one. "If I had access to the details," he said quietly, eyeing the pale-haired man sitting in the comfortable chair across from him, "then perhaps. Without those, however, your blocked memories remain a minefield that I am not confident I can defuse with any speed." One always had to take care in such matters, and when the patient was someone like Creed. _I like my head where it is, thank you. _

Creed's dark eyes gazed at Jones ruefully, apparently sensing Jones' fears. "I'm sorry. I make so much trouble. For Train for everybody." Jones had to smile slightly. It was typical of Creed that he was better aware of the problems he caused Train than the ones he caused for everyone else. It was, he thought, something of a breakthrough that his patient even remembered that there anyone beyond Train.

"Mmmm," Jones murmured. "Have you done much thinking about the memories you've just recovered?"

"Some," Creed answered, looking down at his fingers and Jones felt pleased. Creed had usually forced unpleasant memories out of his thoughts, avoiding thinking about them entirely, until Jones was there to talk to him about them. That Creed felt confident enough to consider the newly awakened memory of his Grandmother without Jones there to guide him through it was an important step. "I don't remember much about it. I think Namma practically raised me. My parents I can see their faces but I don't feel anything about them." He looked at Jones, eyes pathetic, "When I try my brain hurts. What's left of it."

Thinking about Creed's family, particularly some of the things Creed's uncle had told him, Jones couldn't help but feel that the young man was probably better off not remembering things too quickly, and he said as much. "Don't rush things, Creed. It'll come when it's ready." _Not remembering at all is probably not good, but he needs, so very badly, to feel valuable that knowing his parents considered him a barely acceptable nuisance would only hurt him._ Creed was much more stable nowadays, but his scarred ego couldn't take much without risking reopening old fault lines. "It may be a while," Jones continued. "For now, do you remember good things with your grandmother?"

"Oh _yes_!" Creed's tone turned childishly excited. "We'd bake cookies, go riding, Fight. We always fought, but even that was fun, 'cuz when we made up we'd have hot chocolate and" for a moment his lips trembled, then he smiled. "Brownies. Gamma loved chocolate as much as I do."

"Speaking of which, the staff wanted me to thank you for that batch you sent last week." Not quite brownie, not quite cookie, the dish had been sinfully rich, both in butter and chocolate. Jones was pretty sure he'd put on several pounds from those sweets. Creed grinned happily and nodded, pleasure clear. It didn't solve all of Creed's problems, indeed, Jones doubted they all _could_ be solved, but having a skill that allowed him to be of use to those around him gave the pale-haired young man at another point of stability besides Train.

Leaning back, Jones continued, "Your grandmother was someone very special to you. It was natural for her death to be traumatic, especially considering the circumstances."

"Yes," Creed agreed, voice quivering a little. Jones smiled reassuringly and the young man straightened slightly. "It's hard to think about, but I guess I have to, right? That's what the one site I read said."

Forcing back a sigh, Jones half-wished Creed wouldn't spend quite so much time looking up references. "Creed, we are going to have to talk about what you find on-line. It just isn't possible for a web-site to provide adequate mental health care. Tips, yes, but." He smiled wryly at his patient's discomfited expression. "It's not a bad thing to look things up. Just discuss them with me before trying anything. A lot of the time what works for one person doesn't work for another."

Dark eyes closed momentarily, then, with that gleam of intelligence that always startled Jones, Creed looked at him. "The human machine has too many gears. What looks like one problem might be another, is that what you mean?" It wasn't a quote, or even a twisted mis-quote. From somewhere behind the cracked and crazed lens through which Creed saw the world, a momentary spark of the real person had flashed. Jones just wished he knew a way to help Creed do more than just spark. This spark faded, as others had before, and Creed continued, "I hold a beast, an angel and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression."

Jones nodded, smiling wryly. Creed's ability to express himself shifted so suddenly from his own words to those of others that it sometimes seemed like he was dealing with two different people. He wasn't, though, of that much he was certain. "Dylan Thomas," he murmured. "Nicely put." The fact that Creed used others words to express his own thoughts didn't mean those thoughts were non-existent, but that the quotes were the only tools he had to express himself, when the words he needed wouldn't come. "In any case, remembering that she died, remembering the fear and unhappiness is all right, as long as you also remember the good things. You mattered to her, and she mattered to you. To focus on her death would – I think – be an injustice to all the happiness that went before."

A slow, wistful smile, crossed his patient's face as Creed nodded.

To Be Continued...


	29. Paybacks are Hell

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

PAYBACKS ARE HELL

_December 15, 2003 _  
Janos sauntered up the snowy road to Train's house with as insouciant an air as he could muster. Beside him, Rinslet rolled her eyes, muttering something about overgrown teenagers. _It's all very well for her. She didn't have Sephiria reaming you a new one for playing silly games, damnit. How the hell did they figure it out, anyway?_ Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the dark haired Number ambled even more casually, without a care in the world.

Feeling not unlike a sulky teenager caught out in a bit of troublemaking – knocking over an outhouse, maybe – Janos glanced over at his companion. She didn't know it, of course, but the pretty red-headed thief was there as a kind of moral support. That and with her there Train and Sven couldn't get too out of hand with whatever scolding they planned to add to Sephiria's. _Could they?_

A quick shrug cast that thought away. Rinslet was Train and Sven's friend but he thought she'd understand that he was just kidding when he'd sent the fruitcake that email. She had her own issues with the little nut anyway and would probably take Janos' side against the others. _I hope._ He paused, sensing danger. "Rinslet?"

"Yeah. Somebody's watching us." She glanced around, looking ready to move at any moment and Janos thought he noticed something flash between some of the trees. For the first time that afternoon, Janos wondered why it was he'd been told to park so far away. Granted, the plow hadn't been through to clear the dead end road that led to Train's house, but he thought he could have gotten in and out without getting stuck.

Looking from side to side, Janos tried to spot the source of that movement and thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye again. Something whitish _What the hell? Can't be Creed. Train's got him in blinders now. He wouldn't be sneaking around,_ Janos paused. _Shit. Unless he's gone out of control._ The word around Chronos was that Train had very effectively gelded his former enemy, but what if that entire dependency business was a load of crap? What if it were an elaborate act that Creed was using to fool everybody?

"What do you mean? Creed?" Rinslet looked around, scared expression on her face. She'd had bad experiences with the madman and good reason to fear him. "Is he somewhere around?" Her eyes had a wild expression, and Janos cursed himself. He was suddenly realizing that no one had ever told the thief that the former leader of the Hoshi was living with Train. Janos took his companion's arm and hurried her along. "Rinslet? Let's get moving. There's something I haven't told you and"

The flurry of motion that swirled around him made Janos spin around, trying to find and protect himself from the attack. _Too slow. Damn. He's faster than last time!_ Fear wasn't part of a Chronos Number's make up, but it was reasonable to take precautions in an unknown situation. He reached for his glove, only to realize that it, and the pants pocket that it had been in, was gone. Along with his pants. A slowly growing awareness of the chill made him look downwards. From somewhere above them a mad giggle echoed.

"CREED DISKENCE I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THIS!"

-

Creed howled with laughter, crouching in the branches of a nearby tree. "THERE'S A FULL MOON TONIGHT!" he yelled back as he got a good view of Number Seven's denuded backside. "PAYBACKS ARE HELL, JANOS!"

As Rinslet stared up at him, eyes as wide as they could get, Creed waved at her with a cheerful grin. "Long time no see, Miss Walker. Sorry, can't stay and chat. Eve?"

His partner in crime rose out of the bushes holding a video camera. "Got a great shot, Creed. Let's go."

Still laughing hysterically, Creed leapt from one branch to another and landed in the road, running up it with Eve close behind him. A minute later they were jumping the fence and racing into the house, where Sven was waiting.

"Train told me what happened," the Sweeper said, shaking his head as he put his cell phone away. "I'm not sure if I'm appalled or about to join you two in that fit of giggles. Frankly, Creed, you're a bad influence on Eve."

"Or I am on him. He wasn't going to go for Janos' shorts. Bet Seven's giving Rinslet quite a thrill."

"Cold shrinks tissue," Creed pointed out while Sven smacked himself in the forehead with an exasperated look. "She may be laughing her head off too." He collapsed onto the couch and giggled happily. "Did it! I did it! And I didn't touch him at all!" That had been the biggest triumph, the ability to control his nano-machines enough to permit him to slash Janos' pants and shorts to shreds without touching the man inside. The Imagine Blade could never have managed such delicacy – he was just too used to using it as a weapon. "Ruined enough mannequins practicing."

Sven shook his head, "That explains why the two of you and VeeVee have been hunched together like a bunch of kids. Janos is pretty pissed by the way." He glanced out the window. "Train's going to talk to him now. Bet he'll be a lot more agreeable to listening with his gonads hanging out in this weather."

"Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey," Eve agreed.

Sven blinked at Eve. It felt odd to realize just how much the girl had grown up in the last two years. She still had an odd outlook on life, a tendency to see things with the eyes of the only sane person in the asylum, but her comprehension on what made people do the things they did was growing. "You are definitely a bad influence," he muttered to Creed. "Or maybe Train and I are. Hope this doesn't escalate or something."

-

As Janos started after the two scapegraces, Train clicked off the cell phone and rushed to block him. "Hold it. You're not going anywhere until you've calmed down."

"I'm going to murder that little maniac! I'll teach him to" Janos stopped as Train pulled out his gun. "Train! Did you see what he _did_ to me?"

"Saw it and approved it." That wasn't _quite_ true. He hadn't known until that moment exactly what Creed had been going to do and had had to trust Eve's assurances that Creed's idea wouldn't hurt Janos at all. _It could have, of course, but Eve worked Creed pretty hard over the last week. She wouldn't have let him do it if she thought there'd be any damage to anything but Janos' dignity._ He grinned at Janos, highly amused at the way the man was bouncing up and down in a combination of fury and slowly recognized chill.

Taking a deep breath, Janos glared at Train. "You realize, of course, this means war?"

"No. It doesn't. Chill, Janos, or I'll toss you butt first in that snow bank." Train gazed levelly at the man. As Janos' expression faltered and he obviously realized just how serious Train was, the Black Cat continued. "_You_ started it. Creed could have done much worse without doing you any damage at all. Consider yourselves even and don't ever pull a stunt like that again."

The Chronos Number tightened his lips and looked ready to argue, but Rinslet was slowly moving forward to join them. "What stunt? And that was Creed. What's Creed doing here and why aren't we chasing him, or at least running like hell?"

"A practical joke Janos pulled," Train explained, nodding to the thief. "And yes, that was Creed. He's here because he lives here and we're not chasing him because he's back at the house – probably laughing his insane little head off if I know him."

"At the house?" Rinslet stared at Train, expression stunned.

"Long story." Train kept his eyes on Janos, who was looking rather like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Like I said, Creed lives with us, now. Been doing pretty well, too, despite some people's efforts to cause a relapse." Rinslet's stare grew all the more disbelieving and Train cursed the impulse that had caused Janos to bring her at all. It wasn't going to be easy to explain why he'd chosen to take Creed in – not after her experiences with him.

"It was just a joke, damn it! There was no need to do something like this! He could have injured me, you know? How the hell'd he do it anyway?" Janos' string of protests had a weak tone to them, as if he was beginning to realize that he'd brought this one on himself.

"Would _you_ pull a joke like that on a thirteen year old subject to nightmares and fits of violence?" Train asked coolly, irritated at the man's efforts to cover his figurative ass. "Like I said, I could have let him do something worse. If _I_ had been evening the score for him, I sure as hell would have. As for injuring you, Eve made sure he couldn't. They practiced the whole thing for days before this – and she linked with him to keep his nano-machines from going out of control."

Rinslet growled a curse. "Would someone please explain this joke?"

"Janos sent Creed an email. That animation of a room that turns into a screaming face. Wouldn't have upset most of us, but Creed's not well balanced. It sent him hiding in the basement." Train glared at the Chronos Number. "You have any idea how badly you nearly messed him up? You're not dealing with a normal human being when you deal with Creed. You're dealing with something just barely able to handle the day to day business of living, much less unexpected shocks. He's terrified of the basement. He can't even say the bloody word without getting upset. That's where the bad people go. That's where little boys go to be punished forever and ever and ever."

There was a moment of silence as Janos' lips worked and he tried to work out a response. Then, to both men's surprise, Rinslet turned to her off-and-on boyfriend and slapped him upside the back of the head. While Janos cried out in protest and crouched to avoid further abuse she stood over him. "You idiot. What the hell were you thinking of? Trying to set off a bomb in their living room?"

"It was just a little joke" The protest was even weaker than before.

"Yeah. And Creed's just a _little_ crazy. I don't understand half of what's going on here, but I do know one thing. You do _not_ push a madman's buttons in order to see how high he jumps. Especially not a madman with a history of violence like Creed's. You can be bloody thankful that he _didn't_ hurt anyone!" Rinslet turned to Train. "Okay. He's coming in. He's apologizing to all of you. Now. Even Creed."

"Er" There was a plaintive note to Janos' voice. "Er, could I at least have some pants, first?"

-

Creed set up the coffee maker and started a pot of hot water boiling on the stove. Behind him he could hear people entering the house, Train's voice saying, "Come with me, Janos. You can borrow a pair of Sven's pants. Don't think you'd fit mine or Creed's."

Leaning out the door, Creed called, "Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt I mean the pants. Check the closet." His brain was slipping off again, he noted, rather regretfully. It would have been nice to get that apology Janos still owed him while his head was at least sort of screwed on straight. "Underwear that's fun to wear, too."

There was dead silence in the living room and Creed grinned at the three standing there, Janos with Train's coat wrapped tightly around his waist. Then he turned around and went back to getting the refreshments ready.

"You got him replacements?" Sven asked.

"Eve thought it might be a good idea," Creed nodded. "If I only had a brain I'd have thought of it first." He felt a bit sad about that. Just another reminder that he simply didn't have enough consideration of consequences to ever be anything other than Train's ward.

Eve put a plate of cookies on the table. "It was one thing to embarrass Janos. It's another to destroy his property. I pointed out to Creed that he'd be pretty upset to lose his good clothing. Besides, we're expecting Janos to pay Creed back for the monitor."

"I don't have stupid written on my forehead," Creed noted. "Just cuckoo. Don't want to appear on Judge Judy." He smiled wryly at Sven's wince. "Sorry."

"Judge Judy?" The voice was Rinslet's and Creed blinked at her. "Why Judge Judy?"

"The cases are real. The people are idiots," Creed explained smiling sweetly. "Good afternoon, Miss Walker."

With a nervous look at Creed that he was at a loss to explain, Rinslet stepped into the room. "Train and Janos went up to find those pants Creed mentioned. I smelled chocolate."

"Fresh baked," Creed agreed. "Just like mama used to make." He paused, frowning. "Well, I don't think my mama ever baked." He held out the platter and added, brightly. "But Namma did." _It's sort of nice to be able to remember her without feeling all upset and angry. Glad Doctor Jones and I talked about it._ As long as he thought about the good things with her he was better able to handle thinking about the night she'd died. He wondered distractedly why no one had told him that before.

"Er okay." After a quick glance for reassurance from Sven, Rinslet took a cookie and bit into it. "Oh, these _are_ good." She looked at him. "But I still don't understand, why are you here?"

"It's a long story," Sven said, saving Creed from trying to work out an answer. "For now, let's just say that Creed is Train's pet project. We're in the process of renovating him."

"Too much damaged furniture in the attic – and no way to get replacements in," Creed answered, setting the platter down and getting the torte out. This one was a new attempt and he wasn't sure yet if it had succeeded. "Still, I'm _much_ better now." He picked up a knife and frowned when Rinslet flinched back from him. "Is something wrong?"

-

Rinslet Walker was feeling particularly put upon. First her idiot would-be boyfriend had dragged her into this whole thing – obviously hoping her presence would act as a buffer after the boner he'd pulled with Creed. Second, there was Creed, a man who still gave her nightmares, looking not a lot different from the last time she'd seen him – _well, a bit fluffier in the hair -_ and acting even more peculiar. There was something surreal about standing in this nice, neat, kitchen, eating chocolate chip cookies made by a man who had once thrown her over a bridge to get rid of her. _Doesn't help that they're _good_ chocolate cookies, either. _

She watched the pale-haired man standing at the counter with a knife in his hands and tried, very hard, not to shriek. Sven and Eve weren't looking particularly bothered by the fact that the crazy man was armed and dangerous so she wasn't going to freak. _Really I'm not._ Rinslet shuddered. "The knife"

"I need to cut the cake," Creed explained, pointing at a sinfully rich tribute to the chocolatier's art. "I was hoping to test it out on you. I promise it isn't loaded well, except with calories."

"That's for damned sure," Sven grumbled. "I've gained ten pounds since you started cooking."

"Exercise more," Creed told him. "It's not like you have to eat every bite, then ask for seconds."

As Sven grumbled under his breath, Rinslet shook her head. "This is just too weird. Am I the only one who thinks this is too weird? You people sitting here with this maniac? Trusting him to cook for you? Trusting him with knives?"

Creed's bright little smile softened to something a bit sad and hurt as he set the knife down and turned to look at her. "I've offended you?"

"You YOU'VE _KIDNAPPED_ ME. _THREATENED_ ME. NEARLY _THROTTLED_ ME! YOU THREW ME OVER A _BRIDGE_, YOU LUNATIC!" Rinslet yelled then broke off as the white-haired man's expression of sweet bewilderment froze solid. _Shit. That's stupid. Yelling at someone in his state of mind? Almost as bad as Janos' stupidity. Worse maybe, because this is more likely to get him mad than scare him._

For a long moment Creed stared at her and Rinslet thought that – if she ran really fast – she might make it out the door. Then he blinked dazedly, in a startlingly child-like way. "Oh. I did, didn't I?" There was a puzzled air to his soft alto. "That was really rude of me, Miss Walker. I wasn't at all well then, much worse than I am now, but I _do_ apologize. The last was especially bad, considering what I owed you."

-

Creed had just finished his apology when Janos, still rather embarrassed and feeling defensive, stepped into the kitchen, followed by Train. _It wouldn't be nearly so embarrassing if the loon hadn't gone and gotten me a better pair of pants than any I normally wear._ Somehow he had a feeling that Ten had had something to do with Creed's knowing the right size.

Looking at Rinslet, he thought he knew the expression on her face. She was about to blow. Before he could say or do anything though, Rinslet was rushing towards the white haired madman and grabbing him by the shirt. "WHAT? YOU NEARLY KILLED ME YOU STUPID ASSHOLE! IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? _APOLOGIZE?_"

"Rinslet" Janos started forward, hand going for his weapon. She was going to get herself killed. The man might not be the killer he used to be – though Janos still had his doubts – but there was surely no way he'd take that kind of abuse without reacting. Before he could though, he caught sight of Creed's face.

_Oh God. He _is_ a kid. Just a scared little kid in a man's body._ Janos had never seen a look like that on an adult's face before, but he recognized it nonetheless. _No, I'm wrong. I _did_ see that look before. Just a brief moment. When Beluga fired at him. When he was about to die. He was terrified then and he's terrified now._

Lips quivering, Creed stared from Rinslet to Train and back again. "TTrain? What what do I do?" Even his voice – already higher pitched than most men's – had notched up several octaves higher, like a child about to burst into tears. ""

Train was already moving forward, detaching Rinslet's hands from Creed's shirt and stepping between the two. "Rinslet," he said with barely concealed impatience. "Stop bullying him."

As Rinslet opened her mouth to start yelling in earnest – and Janos knew she hadn't gotten near to the top of her form – the Chronos Number took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Rinslet. Don't. You're scaring the hell out of him. Remember what Train said? Creed can't deal with sudden shocks. Do you want to drive him straight over the edge?"

-

Creed struggled for breath, mind so far beyond bewildered and confused that he was operating on nothing but sheer willpower. He couldn't let himself go back to the old patterns but he had no idea how to deal with an attack of this sort _without_ returning to the old Creed. Panic was raising his adrenaline levels but the clarity of thought was useless. _Here I stand, very clearly thinking that I have no idea what to do. I can't hit her. Can't yell at her. She has every right to be angry, doesn't she? I did do those things to her. I don't know how to deal with this. Please, Train, help me._ He was dimly aware that he was babbling aloud, yet couldn't stop himself.

"Creed? How you doing?" Train's voice was soft and kind, a relief in this moment of uncertainty.

"Awful?" Creed hated the childish note his voice had taken on but he couldn't help it. He felt so utterly helpless. He had no way of dealing with this kind of thing except the ways that he used to and those ways were utterly denied to him now. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Overwhelmed with confusion, he dropped to the floor, legs sprawled to either side of him, and started to bawl.

Hands on his shoulders pulled him upright. "Creed. Calm down. Shhh. It'll be okay. You want to go outside?"

Creed nodded helplessly. The only possible responses to the violent terror in his system were fight or flight. The garden was covered in snow right then, but he had no choice. He stumbled through the door, feeling Train's hands steadying him. "We could use wood for the fireplace," Train whispered in his ear. "That tree there. Use this axe."

Barely aware of what he was doing, Creed grabbed the tool Train handed him. A dull axe, he knew, almost too dull to cut down a tree or chop wood, but if he used his Imagine Blade, or his nano-machines, almost none of the dangerous overload of anger and fear would be tapped. He had to exhaust himself.

Practically running at the tree, he began to chop, as fast and as hard as he could. Thought left him as he focused entirely on the effort, releasing his destructive urges on an acceptable target rather than on the one who'd created them.

-

Inside, Rinslet stared after the fleeing figure, startled out of her anger. Watching out the window, she saw Train point him at a tree with an axe and watched him began chopping hard and strong. "What just happened?" she asked, confused.

"Creed is emotionally unstable," Eve pointed out. "You scared him. He couldn't attack you and he couldn't defend himself from _your_ verbal attack."

"He's like a kid," Janos murmured. "He really is like a little kid." He shook his head frowning thoughtfully.

Angrily, Rinslet shook off the guilt that was beginning to assail her. "Well, how am _I_ supposed to know something like that? Damn it, he _did_ do all those things to me."

"C'mon, Rinslet. Weren't you the one who smacked _me_ for pushing a madman's buttons? Tell the truth. You kept at him because he didn't do anything to defend himself." Janos cocked his head at her.

"I I did _not_." Rinslet sputtered in her own defense, but honesty with herself made her sigh. "Okay. Maybe I did. I guess I went overboard, didn't I?"

Eve looked quietly at Rinslet. "I think it's sometimes easier to yell at someone who won't fight back."

Feeling very annoyed with herself, Rinslet nodded. "It's just that"

It was Sven who spoke up. "He's done a lot of unpleasant things. He tried to kill me once, too, remember? It's not like he doesn't deserve having someone angry with him." He shook his head. "Truth to tell, I've gotten pretty pissed at him too. But the thing is, he really _is_ trying. He's got very little to work with, but he does his best with what he has."

"He meant it when he said there was too much room in his attic. His brain is damaged. He puts a lot of time and effort into making what's left work, but there's only so much he can do." Eve glanced out the window at the spot where Creed was still beating up the poor defenseless tree and Rinslet saw the way that thin body struggled to keep moving. "We would have warned you if we knew you were coming, of course, but we thought Janos was coming alone."

"My fault," Janos admitted. "I thought bringing her would keep things from getting out of hand. Sort of thought you gang had mentioned he was here and"

Rinslet glared at her companion. "No. They never said a blessed word, you" Words failed her.

"Wasn't a reason to," Sven explained, shrugging. "He's only been here a short while and you were out of the country. Things have been a bit busy, too, what with fixing him a room, getting his finances straightened out _and_ doing our own jobs."

With a sigh, Rinslet shook her head. She'd give Janos what-for later. "You think it'd be okay for me to go and talk to him?"

Sven glanced out the window, giving the pale haired figure a considering look. "Give him about ten more minutes to really exhaust himself. He won't make a bit of sense but at least he'll be too tired to get upset again. As long as you don't yell at him, that is."

-

Train watched as Creed finally collapsed to his knees in the snow. The tree, rather amazingly, was down. _He could denude a forest if he was using the Imagine Blade._ "How you feeling?"

"Where am I and what am I doing in this hand basket?" Creed asked weakly, leaning on the axe handle and sobbing for breath.

"That good, huh?" Train got up and helped Creed move to a bench, sweeping the snow off. "Better get some hot cocoa when you get in. Bet Sven'll have a pot going by now."

"Actually," a voice said from behind them, "He sent me out with this." It was Rinslet, who was carrying a tray with three carry-cups, wisps of steam rising from the drinking holes. "Hi?" The thief sounded a bit embarrassed and she was giving Creed a regretful look that told Train she'd been given something of a lecture regarding the care and feeding of recovering psychopaths.

Creed looked up and at his widening eyes and scared look, Rinslet shook her head. "No more yelling, Creed. I was scared about everything and when I get scared I get angry." She handed him one of the cups, then another to Train. "Every time I've met you before, you've terrified the hell out of me."

"Turnabout's fair play," Creed answered weakly, smiling and sipping at his cocoa. "Oooooh target located and locked on"

At Rinslet's startled and somewhat frightened stare, Train smiled reassuringly. "Creed's a bit dazed. He doesn't communicate normally when he's like this. He's saying the cocoa hits the spot."

With a nod, Creed took a deep draught of the drink and closed his eyes with an expression of pure ecstasy. "Suuuweeeet."

"You'll rot your teeth," Rinslet muttered, sipping at her own drink. "I saw how much sugar Sven put in."

"Nah, his nano-machines will replace 'em. Most of the right side's already changed over, in fact, courtesy of a certain Chronos Number's wrecking ball." At Rinslet's frown of confusion, Train shrugged. "They – the nano-machines – are about the same as the ones that make Eve what she is. Except his take over the body a lot more slowly unless there's damage."

"Lowest bidder," Creed added. "Eve's top of the line merchandise."

"If it weren't for the fact that I know you mean that in the best of lights," Train commented cuffing Creed lightly on the back of the head, "I'd take exception to the description."

"I paid good money for her manufacture," Creed said in a wounded tone. "She's the cream of the crop and I'm very proud of her." He paused and added questioningly, "Nurture vs. Nature?"

Train nodded. "Could be the difference. She's grown up a lot in the last few years. I doubt that would have happened with ol'what's his face."

Rinslet looked at the two of them and shook her head. "I didn't come out here to talk about Eve," she pointed out. "It's cold and I wanna go back in soon."

"The weather outside is frightful," Creed agreed smiling wistfully. "A fire would be delightful?"

Rinslet stared for a long moment and Train wondered if he was going to have to translate. Then, "Oh. Well, yeah. It wouldn't hurt. But first I apologize. I didn't mean to upset you that way."

"That's not the best policy," Creed answered, shaking his head, eyes wide.

Another moment passed as Rinslet obviously worked out what Creed was saying. "You don't think I'm being honest?" She looked ready to get angry again, but stopped, frowning. "Maybe I'm not," she admitted. "You did a lot of scary things to me, Creed. I guess I sort of realized I was scaring you and"

"Fair play." Creed repeated as he took another deep sip of his cocoa. "It's okay now."

Train glanced at Rinslet, who was frowning consideringly. "_Is_ it okay?" he had to ask.

"Sven told me a bit," the young woman answered. "I think you're almost as crazy as _he_ is to have him stay here, but that's your business."

Creed got to his feet. "S'mores sound good to me," he announced suddenly as he headed into the house. Train rolled his eyes, recognizing an obvious effort to change the subject when he saw it.

-

Biting into the melted chocolate mess, Rinslet licked her lips with a sigh. "You know, if someone told me I'd be eating s'mores with Creed Diskence two hours ago, I'd have laughed in their face." She looked at the pale-haired man curled up near the fire and toasting a marshmallow, his expression sweetly peaceful and made particularly child-like by the smear of chocolate that stained his cheek.

"Bohemian Rhapsody," Creed answered, nodding and glancing wistfully at Train, who was napping in one of the nearby chairs.

Blinking, Rinslet stared at the man. "That one went over my head entirely," she protested. "Could you try another?"

"Another trip to Google," Eve sighed from her seat on the couch, the firelight making her pretty features look more mature than she usually did. "I spend more time looking up obscure references. Makes me wish I had permanent access." She looked thoughtful and Rinslet wondered if the young woman was trying to work out a way to do exactly that.

Janos chuckled, leaning on his elbows and staring into the fire. "Don't bother, I can answer that one. Song by Queen. First lines are 'Is this real life or is this just fantasy?'" Creed glanced his way and nodded approvingly. Janos continued. "Any idea why he does that?"

"Speak roughly to your little boy," Creed murmured.

"You don't do it on purpose," Eve pointed out as Rinslet worked out that the line was from a Lewis Carroll poem. "Even if it does annoy."

Creed gazed into the fire consideringly. "Not entirely out of my control," he said carefully. "Just the first thing out of my mouth. It was a defense mechanism that got out of hand." He sighed and nibbled on his chocolate with an unhappy little smile. "Sorry."

_He really is sorry, too,_ Rinslet realized with a startled feeling and another question occurred to her. As she wiped the last of the chocolate from her fingers and mouth, then leaned forward to wipe Creed's cheek, she said, "Earlier, before I got upset with you, you said something about owing me. Why?"

Startled dark eyes swerved to meet Rinslet's, then a boyish little smile crossed Creed's face. "Thank you. I didn't realize that was there." Before she could insist on his answering the question he continued, "You saved my one precious thing. I really ought to have been more grateful. At the time I wasn't really in a position to thank you."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Train sighed, eyes still closed. "Even if I am. It's sorta embarrassing."

With raised brows, Rinslet glanced from Creed to Train and – in that moment – realized exactly what the 'one precious thing' was that she'd saved. Train – that day that he and Creed had fought in the tower.

Creed nodded, meeting her gaze. "I saw him fall and could do nothing" His soft voice was sad. "You caught him. You saved him." His hands, Rinslet realized, were shaking a bit and his eyes were bright with tears. "Shiki didn't think he'd live but I knew he would. That's why I sent Doctor to him." He glanced over at Train again and the sadness in his expression became nearly impossible to look at.

With a sudden flash of insight, Rinslet understood what had driven the white-haired man so long. The longing in Creed's dark eyes answered the obvious follow-up question. He loved Train and Train did _not_ love him. There was a part of Rinslet that was shocked by the situation, but another part felt more than a bit sorry for someone so much in love that he'd take the teeny bit offered him so much to heart. _It's terribly romantic, really. I wonder what will come of it?_

To Be Continued...


	30. Merry Christmas, Mr Diskence

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MR. DISKENCE

_December 25, 2003 _  
"Hey, Train? There's a white-crested loon on the roof again," Sven sighed. "Think you could talk it into at least wearing a robe? I hold no hopes of getting him down after our little spat just now." He gazed up at the ceiling with a long suffering expression. "When I told him to go soak his head, I didn't mean literally."

"You know how hot baths make him feel better, though, and you _did_ have him pretty upset." Train raised a brow as he put the last present under the tree. "I take it he's communing with nature now?" At Sven's sigh, Train grinned and headed up the stairs. Creed's favorite habit of sitting on the roof when he wanted to be alone – either because something was bugging him or because he simply felt like quiet time – had become known as 'communing with nature' in the household. While Sven considered it typically crazy behavior, he also accepted it as simply Creed being Creed in one of his more innocuous ways.

Train climbed the ladder into Creed's room, then stepped out onto the small patio. Glancing sideways onto the roof, he laughed. Communing with nature for Creed usually didn't involve being stark naked, but apparently his friend hadn't bothered getting dressed after his bath. _Boy's going to catch a chill like that. Though I'll grant he seems to like cooler weather better. _

"Some like it hot," Creed said, without turning his head. "but it was too damned warm. I'll come in soon, Train."

Frowning at his friend, Train climbed up on the roof and made his way over to where Creed was sitting. "Admittedly, there's no one to see you out here except whichever Chronos mook is on duty, but do you really want to give them a free show?" He handed Creed the robe he'd taken out of the closet and waited until the pale-haired man had slid it on. Looking at Creed, he frowned. _He looks unhappy. Can't think of anything that could have upset him, but he's perfectly capable of getting upset over the fact that the snow is white._ "You okay?"

Creed looked puzzledly out onto the fields. "Now is the winter of our discontent," he said softly. "But I don't know why." He turned his dark eyes onto Train. "My heart must be two sizes too small."

-

Silence descended on the two for a long moment as Train thought and Creed gazed off silently. He wished he knew what was wrong with him, why Christmas always bothered him. _Another of those lost memories that I don't dare face?_ he wondered as Train said, softly, "You don't enjoy all the festivities. Do you want to stay in your room for the celebrations? I'm afraid it's Sven's favorite holiday and"

"No. I promised cookies cakes" Creed smiled a little wistfully. "But I am not Scrooge." Sven's nickname for him – granted when he had muttered something about not really liking Christmas – had rankled. Being cajoled into having fun when something about the whole celebration just made him feel like hiding under his covers, and being called Scrooge because of it only upset him the more. "It's not like I haven't gotten everybody presents."

Another pause, then Train nodded. "I heard the argument. I didn't realize it upset you so much. I'll tell him." He got to his feet, smiling down at Creed. "Come down when you're ready, 'kay?"

Creed smiled, turning his eyes back onto the scene in front of him. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep," he murmured. "I will."

-

-

The sound of shredding paper filled the air and Sven grinned as he watched Train turn his packaging into confetti. Every year was the same. Sven would open his gifts with some neatness while Train ripped every shred of paper free with joyful abandon. Eve – who had only been with them for one previous Christmas celebration – was given to forming a small blade with which she carefully sliced the paper free.

It was Creed's method that Sven found a bit hard to take. Carefulness was one thing, but the man took neatness to extremes above and beyond the call of duty. If they hadn't already had that fight about what kind of cake was appropriate for Christmas – white frosting with dark red roses or a rich Black Forest chocolate cake– Sven might have fussed at him for the extreme delicacy with which he was removing the ribbon from the first gift. _Though I wish I knew why he wanted candles too. Weird. _

"Hey. Cool. New bullets!" Train examined the ammunition Creed had given him – special burst shots that he'd paid Sven to make. "Got a decent spread?"

"Should. You'll want to test a couple out, to be sure." Sven answered, as Creed's eyes brightened with real pleasure at having pleased Train. "They're pretty much the usual, but you never know."

Creed smiled at Train. "If they're anything like the ones you used on me that one time, I'll vouch for their efficacy." He rubbed at his chest. "Though I suppose they were a bit of a failure, since they didn't kill me."

Sven wasn't exactly sure how to respond to a comment like that so he kept his mouth resolutely shut while Train laughed. "I think it might have taken an elephant gun to take you down, Creed."

"While riding a crocodile down Limpopo river?" Creed asked, finally working the last bit of tape free and sliding the box out. "Oh, this is very nice, Sven. Thank you." He held up a long sleeved, pale blue tinted, opalescent shirt, one of several brightly colored silks that the others had bought him.

"Thank VeeVee. She said you'd couldn't find any your size last time you were at Memories and told me where to order 'em." Sven smiled, a bit relieved that Creed was joining in with the festivities with more grace than he'd shown earlier. _Maybe we'll get him liking Christmas after all. Strange thing, though. Of all the holidays in the year I would have figured an overgrown kid like Creed liking, Christmas would have been first on the list._

-

-

There was something soothing about the process of cleaning up. Turning a complete wreck into something sparkling and tidy just made Creed feel better. He sighed as he finished and turned to find Train looking at him with a curious expression. "Yes? Is something wrong?"

"I gotta admit I'm not the most sensitive guy on the block," Train said, hoisting himself up onto the counter. "But I get the feeling that you're still not really happy."

Creed shrugged, squeezing out the sponge and putting it away neatly. "I'm not paid to be happy," he pointed out. "I'll be all right, once all this nonsense is over." He glanced quickly out the door, making sure Sven wasn't going to come in and grumble at him. He'd had quite enough of the 'Christmas is a wonderful time of the year' argument.

Amber eyes watched Creed, seeming to study his expression. "It's not that I think Christmas is the end all and be all of holidays, but I have to ask. Why nonsense?" Train picked up a glass of milk and drank it down, still regarding Creed with a steady, inquiring, expression.

"Because it is. If you like someone, you can give them gifts anytime. All the fuss and bother. Everybody getting excited and noisy and expecting everyone else to have fun, even when they're not." Creed went to the refrigerator and got the milk out, refilling Train's glass, much to his Cat's amusement. He wished he could articulate things better. There was just something about Christmas that left him feeling sad and empty and unfulfilled. "I just feel sad, empty and unfulfilled, somehow." _Oops. There I go again, saying what I'm thinking. _

Thoughtfully, Train sipped at his drink while Creed returned to cleaning up. He was so quiet that Creed wondered if he'd managed to say something offensive again. He was so good at that. "I'm sorry. I'm just a spoiled brat," Creed said hurriedly.

"No. I don't really think you're being spoiled. A lot of kids would be screaming for more gifts right now." Train chuckled. "Sven's family had to instigate the 'One small present from everyone' rule to keep the squabbles down. Of course, when you have five kids, that's about the only thing you can do."

A shrug was the only response Creed could think of. "He explained that already. Fair is fair. Everyone gives one small present to each person in the family and that's it." He barely noted that his hand was squeezing too tightly on the bread he was putting away, squashing it.

"Well, it _is_ only fair, really. I know, the little kid in me always wants more and more, too, but it's not like today's your birthday after all."

"Well, that'd just be silly," Creed answered absent-mindedly. "Christmas babies don't get birthday presents."

"Eh?" Train's voice was puzzled. "Why ever not?"

Another shrug, oddly painful, as if Creed's shoulder muscles had tensed entirely too much, followed the question. "Isn't it obvious? They're already getting a lot of presents. Why in the world would they be given more? Don't want to spoil the little brats, after all." He didn't know why he choked and sobbed suddenly, but the tension in his system was rising.

For a very long moment Train just stared at Creed. "Creed? _Is_ today your birthday?"

-

CRASH

Train's eyes widened as Creed's hand jerked sharply, knocking a plate to the floor and shattering it. The look the white-haired man turned on him, though, was what really stunned him. Angry, hating itself and everything around it, the expression of someone close to exploding. Then – as suddenly as it appeared – the expression disappeared and turned to the scared child look that Creed got when he knew he'd gone too far.

"Creed! Wait!" Train jumped down and caught Creed's arm, stopping his sudden dash towards the back door. _I'd half forgotten. He'd said he couldn't remember his birthday when I put him in the asylum. _

"Fireplace need wood Let me go" Creed's voice was shaking with undefined emotions.

Train couldn't disagree with Creed's intentions but he squeezed the trembling arm and asked, "Can you hold on a moment. Just long enough to answer?"

The dark anguished eyes met Train's just long enough for Creed to whisper, " it is" Then, as Train released his arm, the madman rushed out the door into the back yard.

Out the window, just visible in the light streaming out into the evening, Train watched his ward catch up the axe and begin pounding on the big tree they'd had brought in just for the purpose of giving Creed something to attack. _That should quiet him down,_ he thought, as Sven and Eve came rushing in.

"What happened?" Sven demanded, worry in his eyes. Even now, half a year since Creed had come to live with them, Sven feared the man would finally snap. "What'd he do?"

Train turned and grimaced. "Had another breakthrough – or should I call it a flashback? Sven, today's his birthday. That's why he's so upset." He had a sudden urge to slap whomever it was who'd thought it was a good idea to block Creed's more unpleasant memories for him. Sometimes it was like walking a minefield getting around all the buried hurts and pains.

-

Sven blinked at Train while Eve started picking up the broken pieces of china. "Not that I'm belittling it, but why is _that_ a breakthrough? What's so upsetting about it being his birthday? It's not like he was able to remember until now. We would have wished him happy birthday otherwise. You know that." He shook his head, a trifle annoyed at the melodrama of the whole thing.

"Yeah, I know," Train said. "He didn't come out and say it, but I get the impression that being born on Christmas meant not getting much in the way of birthday presents."

Sven shrugged. "Well, yeah? So? I mean with all the other gifts you get, you don't really _need_ to get a whole set of birthday gifts too." He looked sourly out the window. _Sheesh. He really is a spoiled brat._

It was Eve's quiet, "Why not?" that made Sven pause and think, staring at her. "Well? Why should someone born on Christmas not expect to get presents for his birthday too? That hardly seems fair – considering everybody else with a birthday would."

Sven opened his mouth, about to explain, but suddenly it really hit him what a jerk he was being. "Well hell" he muttered. "I can't think of a single good reason." He scratched the back of his head. This was incredibly embarrassing. Why _would_ it be fair for a Christmas baby to not get anything for their birthday? The fact that they were getting Christmas presents didn't make the birthday any less special. "No wonder the kid hates Christmas. He must have resented it horribly." _Especially someone who adores attention as much as _he_ does. And he has as much right to expect as much attention on his birthday as any other member of the human race._

"So," Train said, nodding as Sven's expression showed his sudden understanding. "What do we do? We don't have gifts for him and it's getting late."

"I'll give Annette a call. I bet she could whip up a really nice cake for him. I can even guess what sort he'd like. White with red roses." Sven said. "Gifts well, we're going to have to give him some I.O.U's. Only hope that's enough to satisfy. No way we're going to be able to find any gifts the day after Christmas. I don't think anything will be open."

"I'll make up some cards," Eve said. "We can place the orders and put pictures and a copy of the order form in them. That'll show that we _have_ gotten something, just that it hasn't gotten in yet. I think he'll understand."

-

_December 26, 2003 _  
"Oy. Creed. You coming down any time soon?"

Creed stared up at the ceiling, lying sprawled on his futon. Too awake to sleep, too tired – or something – to get up, he would have liked just to lay there and be left alone. "I don't wanna go to school today."

"Day after Christmas is never a school day, Creed." Train climbed the rest of the way into his room and cocked his head at Creed, curiosity in his expression. "I'd really like you to come downstairs, Creed."

"It isn't going to help." Creed kept his eyes resolutely off his Cat. If he looked at Train he'd crumple and he didn't want to do that. "The horse is glue by now."

A soft choked sound escaped Train's lips. "I'm not sure I want to know how that train of thought rerouted," he muttered. "Creed, we're not going to try and make up for a lifetime of neglect. It isn't even a matter of an apology – except that we are all sorry that you're hurting over this. None of us can blame you, either."

Eyes stinging, Creed shook his head. "I don't expect apologies. It's not your fault."

"On the other hand," Train continued, "it _would_ be our fault if we ignored the fact that it was your birthday yesterday. Especially since I fully expect to get some sort of birthday gift from you when April rolls around. Got it?"

Creed blinked at him. "Of course I will Just I haven't thought of the right thing, yet!" he protested, and wondered why Train rolled his eyes. He sighed. "I'm being sulky, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah. That and I think you're afraid that it'll still be a let down. C'mon, though. Annette baked a beauty for you. Don't want to hurt your teacher's feelings by refusing to even look at the cake she made, do you?"

-

-

"Okay. He's coming down. We've got about ten minutes before he's done in the washroom."

Eve looked up at Train and was pleased to note his nod of approval at her efforts. She'd done her best to clear the dining room of everything even remotely related to Christmas, an effort she hadn't been entirely sure was necessary. _It can't hurt, though._ She glanced at Sven and Annette, who were preparing the gifts, and smiled.

"There's one catch," Train continued, looking at the three of them. "He knows what we're up to. Inevitable, really. But I'd suggest not yelling surprise. Let's not all bounce at him."

"Well, he isn't exactly stupid," Sven noted, as Eve raised a brow in surprise. "And I guess it was sort of obvious we'd do this." Seeing Eve's expression, he explained, "It's human nature, Eve. Forgetting somebody's birthday – especially a friend or a housemate's – can make the forgetter feel bad – almost as bad as the forgotten. So they'll do something to make up for it."

Puzzling that out took a moment. "So does that mean we're doing this for us, instead of for him?"

"A little of both, Miss Eve," Annette continued the explanation. "There's no doubt that we're doing this for him, but it helps make us feel happier too, knowing we've made up for a mistake."

"Oh. I see." Eve wasn't entirely sure she understood, but a tiny bit of light was beginning to dawn. It would, she thought, take her a while before she fully comprehended the idea, but sooner or later understanding would come. A hesitant step at the doorway made her look up to find Creed peering into the room with a peculiar, scared, expression.

Dark eyes blinked at the decorations. Blue and white streamers – dug out of Annette's supplies – and lavender napkins at the place settings. At the center of the table was a small cake, white with red roses, with a single candle at the middle. Piled at Creed's place setting were four small boxes, wrapped in silver paper, the only wrapping paper they had that could be used for something other than Christmas presents.

Train broke the silence. "Well, birthday boy? Going to sit down and check out your gifts?"

-

Watching Creed move, hesitantly, speechlessly, to his chair, Sven thought that this was going to require a lot of careful diplomacy to keep it from blowing up in their faces. So, while he yearned to allow explanation and excuses to start up, he kept his silence. _Though this is going to be agonizing. If I thought he was being careful with his presents _yesterday_, he's obviously going to top the effort now._

Silently Creed examined each gift, eyes solemn as he found the label and, very carefully, set them in order. It wasn't possible from this distance to tell for certain, but Sven rather thought his was the first in the line. _Which, knowing Creed, simply means he's saving the best for last._ The corollary, that the last one would be Train's, was fairly obvious. _I just hope he understands why we did things the way we did. I especially hope he understands Train's gift. I sure as hell don't._

Slowly Creed worked open the paper, sliding it free and opening the box to reveal the folded sheet of paper. Opening it, a small smile curved his lips. "Oh, thank you, Sven." The order form, showing that – in a few weeks – a handsome oak book shelf would be arriving, was carefully laid to the side, flattened out. "And short enough to fit against the low walls in my room. That's very thoughtful."

Sven shrugged. "Well, it's not like you have a lot of space up there. I figured you'd want it, sooner or later." He knew what Eve had gotten Creed, but didn't want to spoil the surprise. "It may have to go in through your window, though. Doubt we'll get it up through the trap door."

With a small nod, Creed continued to the next box. Another slow, careful, procedure opening it, then another smile – this time aimed at Annette. "I just hope Sven knew you were giving these to me," he said softly, looking back at the order sheet – displaying images of a set of top of the line cooking knives.

"It's not like you don't use them all the time in the kitchen already," Sven pointed out. "That these are a lot better material doesn't make them any more dangerous than the knives you already use. Besides – considering you're a walking weapon already, I don't think there's any point to keeping sharp pointy things out of your hands. You just remember those are for cooking food, not damaging people."

Creed's smile turned mildly mischievous, sign that he was becoming comfortable with the situation. "Not even if I'm cooking long pig?" He chuckled at the three 'ewwws' the suggestion received and turned to the third gift.

It wasn't at all surprising to Sven that this one was Eve's. Not just because that meant the last one _was_ Train's gift, but because it was the sort of gift Eve would get, and the sort of thing Creed would like. Creed's soft exclamation of pleasure confirmed the girl's choice. "Oh, Eve. Thank you!" He caressed the order form quietly, anticipation in his dark eyes. "I'm looking forward to this. Shakespeare's complete works. I used to have a set, I think. But not annotated."

"There's just one thing. I would like to read them too. If only to have some common ground that means I don't have to search for the reference with Google." At Creed's laugh she grumbled, "Won't help with everything, but at least they cover a good deal of ground."

Train coughed. "Going to open mine?" he asked, expression amused at Creed's very obvious procrastination. "C'mon, Creed. There's that lovely cake sitting there waiting for you, but ya gotta finish opening the gifts."

-

Creed hesitated, feeling a surge of nervousness. Anticipation and fear of a let-down combined to make him deeply afraid of touching the last box. Ever so slowly he picked it up, trying not to rip the package open hurriedly. Holding the box, he was a bit startled to find the heft to be different. There was something _in_ this box, not just the carefully chosen last minute representation of presents that the others had given.

_But all the stores are closed. What could he have gotten me?_ Creed worked the tape off, cautiously avoiding tearing the paper, then, finally, removed the wrapper and folded it up into a precise square that he set beside his plate atop the others. The tape holding the box closed came next and he could sense Sven rolling his eyes at his caution. "It's not a bomb, y'know," the older man said, a bit impatiently.

"Now Sven, give him time. It's not like we have anywhere to go," Annette chided, perhaps sensing Creed's need to be cautious.

Creed ignored his housemate as he opened the box. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in tissue paper that he carefully removed from the box. "God, I hope you didn't tape _that_ too, Train," Sven muttered.

"Nah. There's such a thing as indulging him too far," Train laughed. "Well? Unwrap it, Creed."

The feel of the object hidden in the tissue was enough to make Creed tremble with anticipation. "It can't be Oh, Train it can't." But it was. The paper slid away to reveal a strap of soft black leather, a silver buckle on the back and a jump-ring attached to the front. The leather showed signs of having been worn for a while, the mark of the buckle was permanently embedded in its dark surface.

Staring at the choker for a long, silent moment, Creed felt utterly incapable of speaking, a slow tear trickling down his face.

-

The silence was broken at last by Train's cough. "I figured you could use a new choker," he said quietly. "Should I get you a dog tag too? Or do you have something you want to put on it?" At Creed's continued silence, he started to feel nervous. He knew this was a risky gift. Creed was the sort to put far too much on meaning into something like even an old castoff. _Maybe I should have listened to Sven on this._ "Creed you do understand"

Dark eyes raised to meet Train's, utterly suffused with happiness. "I'm your pet Doberman," he said quietly. "It's only right you collar me."

Sven's expression was pained, but also relieved. "I suppose that it's marginally better than him deciding that was an offer of marriage."

With terrible hauteur Creed answered, "Don't be silly, Sven. He'd have given me a diamond ring, then." His stunned expression shifted as he spoke, softening to a look of beatific happiness. "Train I"

Train made a mental note to never, _ever_ give Creed anything remotely resembling a ring and nodded with satisfaction. "I sort of wanted to give you one real thing. It's not like the ordered gifts are bad – at least I hope they aren't – but I know it's nice to get something that you don't have to wait for. Want help putting it on?"

For a moment there was a look of utter temptation in Creed's eyes, but rather to Train's surprise he shook his head. "No, I can do it." He undid the choker he'd been wearing and slid the diamond shaped locket off the jump ring, attaching it carefully, lovingly, to the new choker. At last he put it on, fingers stroking the leather lingeringly.

_Definitely risky,_ Train thought, _but I think he _does_ understand that I don't want him to overreact._ It had been a decision he hadn't been sure of but he'd wanted to make Creed understand that he _was_ someone Train cared about. _And if that caring isn't exactly what he wants it to be, at least it's something. It'll have to be enough._

With a grin, Train continued, "So. Ready for some cake and ice cream?"

To Be Continued...


	31. Mending Bridges

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

MENDING BRIDGES

_December 26, 2003 _

"Careful!"

"I'm trying." Janos grumbled as he carried the large box up the walkway, Rinslet ahead of him providing more free advice than actual help. "Damn. Did they have to live so far out?"

"Considering who lives with them, it's probably a good thing," Rinslet pointed out. "Here, watch out for the step."

Janos made his way up onto the porch as Rinslet tugged him over to the door. "Anyway, it was _your_ idea to get him that huge monitor. If you had any sense you would have gotten the 17" like Sven said."

"Hey. You know how much those pants he got me cost?" Janos was still embarrassed over that particular state of affairs. Bad enough Creed had gotten the drop on him so badly. Far, far worse that Creed had been so generous in repaying the damage. He'd not realized until he'd gotten home and really looked at the things that they were about the best brand out there – expensive because of the materials yet at the same time incredibly comfortable. Creed was nothing if not thorough in his paybacks.

The door opened in response to Rinslet's knock and Eve blinked at the two of them. "Oh. We weren't expecting you. Hello Miss Rinslet. Hello Janos."

Trying to peer over the box, Janos grinned. "Hi Princess. You guys got time for me to give this to El Loonie Grande?"

"_Creed_ is in the dining room with the others having his birthday cake," Eve said, her tone suggesting that she highly disapproved of his choice of epithets. "But I suppose you can come in. Is that the new monitor you promised?"

Janos grinned at Eve sheepishly. "Yeah. Took a bit to find, it being so close to Hey. Birthday? It's his nibs' birthday?"

Rinslet rolled her eyes. "You don't think Eve would say that if she didn't mean it? Christmas baby, huh? That must suck." She dragged Janos over the threshold, the bag of small gifts the two of them had brought along for the others – it being so close to Christmas after all.

"I get that impression," Eve agreed. "Though I don't understand why it is necessary for it to suck at all." She led the way into the dining room.

Janos quickly made his way over to the table. "Hey gang. Not a Christmas or a birthday gift, I admit. Happy birthday, Diskence. How many times do we need t'spank you?" He noted the pale-haired man was wearing a new choker, one that looked a lot more like one of Train's, and he grinned inwardly. _Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? _

Staring, dark eyes wide and uncertain, Creed suddenly smiled as light dawned. "I think the number of spankings I'm due would either kill me or turn me into nano-machines all over, like Eve," he said quietly. "Is that the monitor? It's a little er large, don't you think?"

"Hey. You got me silk pants. I get you a 24" flat-screen monitor. Problem?"

-

Creed glanced helplessly at Train who chuckled. "Er, Janus, he doesn't really have a big enough desk for a monitor that size. That's why he had the 17" model in the first place."

Chronos' Number Seven looked chagrinned. "Well, damn. I didn't think of that."

"Stupid," Rinslet grumbled. "I tried to tell you bigger isn't always better. If you didn't think with your groin all the time you'd know that."

Standing up and going to the box, Creed touched it lightly. "But the thought is kind," he said softly. "Thank you." He glanced at Sven. "The downstairs desk is big enough. I could trade. Er, that is unless you want to trade it in, Janos? It'd be cheaper, I'm sure."

A nonchalant shrug and the Chronos number headed for the cake. "Creed, it's yours if you can use it. I'd only trade it in if you can't."

"You don't mind using the older monitor?"

Creed smiled reassuringly at Sven's question. "No. I don't."

There was a sound of someone getting their hand smacked and Creed realized that Rinslet was continuing in her long term project of housebreaking Number Seven. Janos pulled his hand back from the cake and gave her an offended look. "I was just."

"Being rude. At least wish the man a happy birthday and give him his gift before eating his cake." As Creed's eyes widened, Rinslet shook a large bag she was carrying. "They're really Christmas gifts – just some little stuff we thought you might like. We know you weren't expecting us, so don't worry about not having gotten us anything." She tossed him a piece of cloth. "Not wrapped, either, courtesy of Mr. Last Minute here."

Creed shook the cloth out and realized it was a pale blue apron with a little chick going peep on the front. "Oh. This _will_ be useful. Thank you." He wondered why the others were looking at him strangely but decided that he'd probably been weird again and set the thought aside to ask about later.

Rinslet passed the rest of the gifts out. A new satin eye patch for Sven, a milk bowl for Train and a lovely little silver necklace with an angel on it for Eve. "Guess whose choice they were, too," Rinslet added dryly. Then she paused, grinned sheepishly at Creed and added, "Do you mind us not having gotten a birthday gift too?"

"I wasn't expecting _anything_ from you" A memory occurred to Creed. "Oh. I have something for _you_ in any case. I was going to wait until after Christmas." He rushed off.

-

"Is he always like that?" Rinslet watched the colorfully dressed young man disappear up the stairs, startled.

Chuckling, Train handed her and Janos each a paper plate. "Go ahead and have some cake. There's more than enough." He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction where Creed had gone. "He has his moments of enthusiasm," he agreed and Rinslet got a sense of indulgent amusement from him.

The cake was sweetly delicious, though Rinslet was surprised that it was white instead of chocolate, considering Creed's adoration of the sweet. Annette Pierce smiled at her puzzled expression. "I think he has very specific requirements for a birthday cake," she said quietly, handing Rinslet a cup of coffee. "Probably something from his childhood."

"Can't blame him for that," Rinslet agreed. "So, today's his birthday?"

"Yesterday," Sven explained and Rinslet realized she'd been more on-target earlier than she'd thought. "We didn't know, so this is sort of a make-up party. Not sure how to handle it next year, but we'll figure it out."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs rushing down at a fast rate caused Rinslet to turn. Creed leapt over the banister, landing lightly and walking up at a more decorous pace. "Here you are," he said, handing her a heart shaped little package.

Creed's eyes watched Rinslet with almost unnerving intensity and – as she set down her food and drink and began opening the box – she had a sense that he was hardly breathing, that he was waiting in a state of terrible anticipation over what he'd given her. _Don't know why he thinks he has to give me anything, but I'll make sure to be properly appreciative._

When she opened the box, though, the only thing she could do was stare.

-

Train got up and peered over Rinslet's shoulder and blinked at the brilliantly faceted gem scattering pale pink flashes on its recipient's face. "Oh. A rose quartz heart? That's pretty nice." He glanced at Creed, who was still watching Rinslet with a worried look. _What's he up to, anyway?_ Creed hadn't mentioned giving Rinslet anything, so this whole thing came as much as a surprise to him as it did to the thief.

"It's not rose quartz," Rinslet corrected Train, her voice so strained and stunned that Train blinked at her. "It's a pink sapphire." Suddenly and with as much enthusiasm as Creed had shown when he'd run upstairs, she threw her arms around Creed and kissed him noisily.

Train shook his head, laughing, especially when Creed, eyes wide and confused, said, "Miss Rinslet! I'm _not_ that kind of girl I mean"

As the others laughed and Creed flushed, Rinslet smiled, patting him on the cheek before hurriedly getting her new necklace put on. "I know," she said as she worked at the catch. "Here, Janos, don't just stand there being pretty – help me." As Janos moved to her side she continued, "I know you're not, Creed. Not when you're in love with Train. But this it's such a magnificent gift. And I don't understand why, though I'm very glad to have it."

-

Janos eyed Creed, curious as well. It wasn't that he felt jealous – not really – but it put some odd feelings in his head when _his_ girl got an expensive gift from someone other than himself. Especially since it'd meant that Creed had gotten what Janos had yet to receive from his pretty and volatile lady.

"It's an apology," Creed explained. "For what I did to you at the castle."

Rinslet and Janos both stared. _Now that's unexpected._ From the looks on the others' faces it was obvious that Creed hadn't gotten their advice on the matter. _Which means he thought of it himself. Not bad, considering the way his brain doesn't work._

"Thank you," Rinslet said softly. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't be fighting again," Creed said softly and if there was a faint regret in his tone, it was easily ignored. "I won't need to do something like that to anyone." His eyes flashed suddenly, an unexpectedly intelligent light in their depths. "You know I didn't do it just to get rid of you?"

"Eh?"

Train coughed. "Janos."

It suddenly hit Janos exactly why, after promising to free Rinslet if Naizer won that fight, Creed had freed her by throwing her into the abyss. So that _he_ would catch her. So that _he_ would be distracted. The uncomfortable look on Creed's face confirmed the realization. Then he found Rinslet's fist burying itself in his skull. "HEY!"

"It was your fault. That reputation of yours. He must have known you wouldn't let a pretty girl fall."

Janos rubbed his head, wondering for what might have been the hundredth time exactly why he hung out with Rinslet Walker. _Aside for her being stacked and so damn fun to be around, that is._

"No," Creed disagreed. "His smile couldn't disguise."

_I wasn't smiling. I was pissed!_ Janos wanted to make the protest out loud but he suddenly realized exactly what Creed had really said. The song was old, of course, one he hadn't heard in years, but _The look of love. Aww, damn._

Rinslet stared at Creed blankly. "That one's out of my league," she said finally, either being deliberately obtuse or simply not having much experience with those kinds of songs. "Oh, never mind. Whatever the reason thank you for the apology."

-

-

As they watched Rinslet and Janos walk back to their car, Train glanced at Creed. "You did good," he said quietly and Creed couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. For once he'd managed to do the right thing without having to be told. _More importantly, I didn't do a wrong thing that needs to be punished._ It felt good.

"Is he really in love with her?" Eve asked and Creed realized she'd gone over to the computer to check his last reference.

"Mmmm," Creed considered the question. "Her thorns are his delight," he said finally, then focused just enough to add, "He likes her. I think he might love her." He wondered what would come of that relationship and glanced at Train.

"Don't look at me, Creed. I don't know enough about love to tell." Train shrugged. "It's their business if he does." He turned back towards the house. "C'mon. It's cold out here and I want some milk."

Creed watched him go silently, fingers touching his collar tenderly. "Long, long shall I rue thee," he whispered to himself and noticed Eve looking at him curiously and he smiled wistfully. "It hurts, Eve. He has my heart, but I do not have his."

"I don't know what to say," the girl said quietly, eyes worried.

"It won't kill me." Creed shook his head. "If anything, I'm proud of my broken heart, since _he_ didst break it." He held the door open for the smaller girl. "I have far more than I deserve, Eve. I'll be all right."

As they went into the house, Creed found Train waiting for them, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen and he smiled into those golden eyes, hiding the tears. _It's not his fault my heart keeps asking for more. Nor does it matter if he never loves me. I'm where I belong._ If it was a cold comfort, it would have to be enough.

To Be Continued...


	32. Intermezzo: Hoshi

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: HOSHI 

_December 31, 2003 _

The trouble with the Hoshi, Shiki reflected, was that they simply had little in common other than Tao and a hatred for Chronos. Between the two, he would have thought that they'd be able to come together better than this. The latter alone ought to have provided enough impetus to make them do something _anything, damnit_ about Chronos, at the very least. A plan to subvert them. A plan to assassinate their leadership.

Well, to tell the truth, they'd _had_ that plan, but the one person who might have been able to do so was now busily cooking pretty little soufflés for his best beloved. It made Shiki so mad that he could just spit, watching Creed in his scrying ball, seeing the strong willful leader turn into a giggling schoolgirl.

_No. That's an insult to schoolgirls. The man is pathetic._ He glared at the image, unaware that he was becoming practically obsessed with seeing what next depth Creed Diskence fell to. Party hats and balloons, those ridiculous little blow horns that shot out strips of paper. Confetti everywhere.

From somewhere behind him, Leon, Ekidona and Etesu were doing much the same as the people in Shiki's orb, much to his annoyance. The passing of a year should be greeted with dignity and grace, not this foolishness.

"Master. Here. At least drink some of this. Champagne, they called it. It's good."

Maro wasn't helping. Shiki's big bodyguard was rapidly becoming as drunk as the others. Surprising, that. Someone as big as Maro ought to have a better tolerance than that. Shiki set down the orb, deciding the image wasn't worth watching so closely, and accepted the glass Maro was – shakily – offering him. _Noblesse Oblige_ and all that. He might not share the enthusiasm, but he supposed he may as well share some of the pleasure.

Later, rather on the tipsy side himself, it occurred to Shiki that the real reason they stayed together was that they were a family. A dysfunctional, deeply troubled, family, but family none the less.

Perhaps that was the real reason he watched Creed so closely. Waiting for the day when that silly Black Cat turned on him and their pale haired prodigal returned to them.

To Be Continued...


	33. Birthday Blues

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

BIRTHDAY BLUES

_January 14, 2004 _

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"What time is it?"

"Five minutes after the last time you asked."

"How long before we get there?"

"Five minutes _less_ than the last time you asked."

"I'MMMMMM BOOOOOORRRRREED!"

Three pairs of eyes rolled. Three sets of lungs sighed and three mouths growled, "Train. Cut it _out_!"

Train sighed. He hated long drives. "It's your fault, Creed," he shot over his shoulder. "If you hadn't sent Ekidona after Dr. Tiayu they wouldn't have had to move her to a safe house so far off the beaten path."

Sven glanced at him, Train. Is it a good idea to mention that? he asked, moving his lips but not allowing his voice to sound. Train shrugged, knowing that Sven still worried sometimes that saying the wrong thing at the wrong time could set their pale-haired lunatic off.

From behind Sven, Creed answered, "I can see your lips in the mirror, Sven." As Sven winced, the soft voice continued, "And if I hadn't sent Ekidona after Dr. Tiayu, you wouldn't have caught me at all. I don't think that would have been a good thing." He smiled happily at Train, who nodded agreement. "We might have killed each other if I'd kept doing what I was doing. That would be bad. That would be very bad, Rita."

Sven chuckled. "Definitely bad." He glanced through the mirror at Eve, who had the 'Only Sane One In The Asylum' look on her face again. "Animaniacs. Rita and Runt. I always liked those two."

With as innocent an expression as he could muster, Train noted, "I would have thought Slappy would be more your speed."

"Grumpy old squirrel with irritatingly cute and perky sidekick. Naturally. Slappy's my hero." As Creed started to giggle, Train realized he'd walked right into that one. Before he could protest, though, Eve glared at all of them and muttered, "Are we there yet?"

-

It wasn't that Eve – usually – hated the Sven and Creed show. Nor was it that Train was being any more irritating than usual. It was more that she wasn't at all sure she wanted to do this. _It's Creed's fault. Him and his questions about my birthday._ She could have gone the rest of the year and not worried about having a birthday at all if he hadn't asked. Now they were headed to visit her clone mother, just to find out the date.

Eve knew perfectly well that if she'd said 'no', if she'd told them she didn't want to know, they would have accepted her decision. The trouble was that she had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Feelings that she simply didn't understand and had no idea how to cope with. She knew she wasn't human, that she was physically a lot younger than her apparent age of fifteen or so, but for some reason the idea of knowing exactly _how_ much younger she was bothered her.

The feel of the car swerving slightly on the icy roads drew Eve's attention away from her sour thoughts. Looking up, she saw Sven's lips tighten. "Damn. Slick road. DAMN!" The car slid sideways sharply, slowed as Sven's foot left the accelerator.

"Hang on to your hats," Creed gasped, clutching onto his own seat. "This is going to be a doozy."

"Creed. Not now!" The car nearly came back straight, then another patch of ice sent it sliding sideways, slowly and smoothly, with a kind of elephantine grace into the snow bank. "Aww. Crap." Sven dropped his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. "Stuck."

Eve sighed.

-

-

An icy wind tugged at Creed's cap as he struggled to make his way up the walkway to Doctor Tiayu's house. The walk from where the car had gotten stuck to the house hadn't been all that long, but the weather had decided to take a turn for the worse. "I'm froze!" he muttered, pulling his coat tighter around himself, suddenly glad Sven had made him buy the bulky, not particularly attractive, jacket. "Really, really, froze."

"We got that impression, Creed," Sven sighed. "For the last five minutes."

"And you aren't the only one, either," Eve added.

Creed sighed, breath nearly solidifying as it hit the cold air. "Froze," he couldn't help muttering to himself. "Just plain _froze_." He tried to force his mouth to stay shut, but with limited success. Talking distracted him from the cold, was his natural reaction to stress. Before he could say another word, though, Train put a hand over his mouth and he stared at his beloved, wide-eyed. ""

"We're almost there, Creed. You'll be warm enoug." Train's sentence was left incomplete as a sound drew their attention towards the house. A tiny click, barely audible above the wind, but one that caused Train to leap backwards, just as the ear-shattering BANG exploded.

Creed felt his eyes go wide, his vision blurring momentarily as he took in the situation. His ears were ringing from the noise, the right one a bit more than the left from the sound of something zinging past. A liquid warmth seeped down his cheek and he could feel his nano-machines rushing into action, sealing the wound. "Train? I think Doctor Tiayu just shot at me." He stared at the building, unable to move until Train grabbed him by the arm and pushed him down into the snow. Just in time as another bullet fired.

-

_Leave it to Creed to stare in wide-eyed wonder while someone's shooting at him._ Train was reminded of their very first job together, where Creed had done much the same as now. That time, though, he'd simply been lost in admiration of Train's gunplay. This time, though, Train realized Creed had frozen solid from fear. The pale-haired madman was shaking, eyes so wide Train thought they'd fall out of his head, lips trembling with emotion.

"Train? Don't let me Don't let me do something bad. Please?"

The request made sense. Every bit of Creed's training had been geared towards returning violence for violence. Train's had been as well, for that matter, but it was easier for him to control that reaction than it was for Creed's one track mind. _No wonder he's scared._ "It's okay, Creed. Do you need a noogie?"

"Not not yet Make her stop shooting at me Please don't let her shoot at me I don't like being shot at."

Eve was already handling that. "Doctor Tiayu. It's me! Eve. Please stop."

"That's Creed Diskence!" Tiayu's voice protested from the house. "Why are you with Creed Diskence?"

Train sighed. They'd tried to get a hold of Tiayu, had left her message after message letting her know they were coming but for some reason the nano-machine expert had never responded. "We'll explain inside," he called. "Creed's okay now. He isn't here to cause you any trouble."

"I'll be a good boy, Doctor Tiayu," Creed managed to call in turn. "Please don't shoot me." His voice sounded like a scared little boy's. Creed continued, "It really upsets my nano-machines when I get injured." Apparently it was the right thing to say, because the door opened.

-

-

"Fascinating." Doctor Tiayu was carefully examining Creed's hand. "And unexpected. I hadn't thought the Doctor was so far along. You say the ones he gave you were the early models?"

Eve sighed to herself. She shouldn't have been at all surprised that her clone mother would focus so entirely on something new and interesting. _To the exclusion of everything else._ So far she'd gotten Creed to go through practically every shape-shifting trick Eve had taught him. A niggling emotion was trying to work its way into her awareness and it was with a shock that she realized it was jealousy.

"Doctor?" Creed's voice had that slightly childish note it got when he was worrying over something. "Could we discuss my nano-machines later? We came here for a reason." He looked at Eve and she found herself mixing annoyance at him with annoyance at herself. She had no good reason to resent his attempt to consider her feelings and yet she did. It was childish of her and that was something she didn't like at all.

Doctor Tiayu blinked, "Oh. Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that. You could have just called, though."

"We did. You didn't answer." Eve was surprised at her tone, at the irritation in it. Somehow she forced it back. "So we had to come and visit instead." _Really. I wish she'd pay attention to things._

Another blink. "You did? I didn't notice. I've been in the lab I must have missed the messages." The look on Eve's face must have made the scientist realize she was digging herself deeper, for she shifted subject quickly. "So, what is it that you need? No problems with your nano-machines, I hope?"

Eve shook her head, noting that her companions were very carefully keeping their mouths shut. _Leaving it all to me._ That irritated her as well and she had to work to maintain a steady tone. "When was I born or decanted or whatever?"

There was a moment of silence. "Oh. Oh dear. Well it was in October, I think. Or was it July?" At Eve's expression, Doctor Tiayu looked deeply embarrassed. "It's in my records. Just give me a half-hour and I'll go look it up for you."

"Never mind. It's not important. You can go back to studying Creed." Eve got up. Walked out of the room.

-

-

"Eve?" Creed leaned on the door and watched the girl sitting on the back porch of Doctor Tiayu's house. In the shadows, as still as she was sitting, she looked like part of the furniture.

"I don't really need to talk, Creed. You can go away." The anger in her voice seemed to surprise Eve as much as it did Creed. _No. I'm not really surprised. I think I understand it. Though I'm not sure why._ "Please."

Sighing, Creed considered the girl. "I'm sorry." He was, too. He had been aware of her growing tension during their trip, the feeling that she wasn't at all sure what she wanted to do. this. "I know how you're feeling, Eve. I want to help if I can."

Ruby eyes turned to gaze at him, gleaming faintly, reflecting the dim light. "How exactly do _you_ know how I'm feeling? When _I_ don't have a clue?"

It was a good question and not an easy one to answer. Still, "Because it's how I'd feel." He moved forward, sat down on another chair and looked at Eve earnestly. "To be faced with someone you think ought to feel something for you. To feel they ought to consider your feelings. To want them to be someone other than who they are." His voice faltered. _It's not about me. Especially this time. But it still hurts._

Eve seemed to realize why he stopped. "I don't feel that strongly towards her, either. It's not like you and Train," she pointed out. "I just" Creed carefully avoided saying that it hadn't been his love for Train that he'd been thinking of.

"She's your mother. You want her to _be_ your mother. To feel like you matter. You don't want to be just an experiment she abandoned." Creed managed to smile. "The trouble is even if she'd raised you. Even if you were her physical daughter, instead of a clone, she would still be what she is. I don't think she's a maternal person. No amount of wishing is going to make her a better mother." _Anymore than it ever changed mine. _

The small girl sighed. Ruby eyes gave him a rueful look. "Creed. I know that."

"And it still hurts. But for what it's worth you have a family in Sven and Train and me if you want." Creed looked at her earnestly. "I know. We're not much of a family. Especially not me."

"No. You are." Eve sighed. "You're like a little brother to me. I think I've needed that." She eyed him, expression uncertain. "Does that bother you? You're my elder."

A laugh escaped Creed's lips. "No. Not really. I think Sven's right about my still being a kid." It only occasionally bugged him but he had no choice but to recognize the validity of the opinion. He wasn't emotionally able to handle things yet. Someday, maybe, but just not yet. "And we're talking about me again. I've got to stop that habit."

Now it was Eve's turn to laugh, wryly. "No. I was changing the subject to avoid thinking about things. But you're right I think. I want her to be a mother and I know she isn't."

"I'm sorry, Eve. I wish I could be." The voice at the door way was Doctor Tiayu's. The slender woman was standing there, eyeing the two of them with a worried look. "Creed? Could I talk to Eve alone?"

Creed nodded and left the room.

-

This wasn't going to be easy, Tiayu realized as she took the seat Creed had been using. She was so very bad at human relationships. The biggest reason she focused on her studies had always been that she simply found the social world entirely too confusing. "Eve."

"You really don't have to explain."

"I know you understand in your head," Tiayu said quietly, watching her clone-daughter, marveling at how different they were despite the near perfect similarity of features. It wasn't just the apparent age difference. It was the expression, the attitude. Everything. "Do you know," Tiayu murmured, "When I was young I would have given anything to be able to do what you do?"

"Is that why you created the nano-machines?" Eve asked, curiosity-despite-itself in her tone.

The question was startling and not at all what Tiayu had meant. "Oh. No, I meant with people. I've never been able to connect. Never been able to understand. You adapt to people. You learn from them. You grow involved with them. I never could. I never have." She glanced back over her shoulder in the direction where Creed had gone. "You've even managed to make a sociopath like Creed Diskence feel concern for you. That's quite an accomplishment."

Eve shook her head. "He's psychopathic, not sociopathic." At Tiayu's raised brow, the girl continued, "He has social intuition. His dysfunctions are failures to recognize reality. If you accept his underlying logic everything he does makes perfect sense."

"Oh." Tiayu had only met the suave, debonair and totally amoral Creed Diskence of the Hoshi once and had diagnosed him as sociopathic because of his apparent inability to recognize that his plans would mean terrible things for the rest of the world. "Well, you know him better than I. And he really isn't what we should be talking about, is he?"

"No. It's just easier to talk about someone else than our own problems." Eve sighed. "I wish"

"I do too. But I'm not capable of it. I never have been and I don't know that I ever will be." Tiayu smiled at her clone-daughter. "For what it's worth, I am very glad that you can and will be much more capable of those feelings than I have been. Very glad to see that you are growing up so well."

The smile on Eve's face was a reward, one that Tiayu wasn't sure she had really earned, but it pleased her none the less. "Would you like me to check that date now? I'm almost certain it _was_ in October, now that I think about it."

Eve considered that. "All right. I think maybe I won't use it for my birthday. There's another day that matters more in my life. But I _would_ like to know."

-

-

_January 15, 2004 _

"No. Watch the eggs. Don't read the book."

"Better watch her feet, too," Sven commented wryly, "Just in case she trips and gives you a hot egg facial." He was staying as far back from the kitchen disaster in the making. Creed Diskence teaching kitchen klutz Tiayu how to scramble eggs was somewhere between a potential traffic accident and a comedy routine. Admittedly, it was preferable to letting Tiayu cook alone, since that had often meant _he_ got a face full of food. Even so, he was preparing to dodge if Tiayu showed signs of getting ready to pick up her frying pan.

"It's going to be a bit before they get hot enough," Tiayu protested, ignoring Sven and glancing sideways at the pale-haired man flipping pancakes with practiced ease. Her hand twitched towards the book beside her, which Creed snatched away, stretching his left arm to impossible lengths to do so.

"Once the eggs start heating they cook fast. If you're reading you'll be too engrossed to notice." Creed glanced Sven's way. "And _you_ can either help set the table or keep quiet. Honestly, Sven. It's not like she does it on purpose."

Sven chuckled. "I know. But since I seem to be her usual victim I think I'll just keep quiet. Let us know when breakfast is ready. I'll be with the others in the living room." He left the sounds of cooking and small arguments behind him and found Eve and Train. The two were in typical positions. Eve reading one of Tiayu's science journals and Train sprawled out, dead asleep, on the couch.

"How are they doing?" Eve asked.

"As well as can be expected. But breakfast will be edible this morning because Creed's pride won't allow it to be anything else." Sven settled in a chair nearby Eve, glanced at her. "How _you_ doing?" He'd known the trip had bothered her, had worried that it might be far more than she could deal with. He should have known she'd figure something out. _She's so adaptable and quick to learn it scares me._ He both liked and was bothered by it, because he never wanted to wake up and find her gone. She was just too important to his life now. _Odd, how such a little girl can twist me around her pinky so easily._

"I'm fine, Sven. Really. I think it still hurts a bit that she's not my mother, that she can't be a mother, but I'll be okay." Sven refrained from asking whether Eve meant fine the way Creed usually did and simply nodded as she continued. "I've decided though. I'm not going to use the day I was decanted for my birthday."

Sven blinked at the small girl, puzzled. "What date then?"

The small sweet smile on Eve's face made Sven feel strange inside. "February 20th. The day you saved me from Torneo." As Sven's eye widened and he stared at her, she added, worriedly, "That was when I became really human. It's all right, right?"

Sven couldn't help grinning broadly. It wasn't just all right. It was wonderful. He laughed aloud, startling Train awake. "Of course it is, Eve. I can't think of a better date at all."

To Be Continued....


	34. Happy Birthday, Train Heartnet

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TRAIN HEARTNET... 

_April 1, 2004 _

_Damn. We're still low on funds._ Sven glared at the monitor.

"Sven?"

_Let's see. Property damage. . . Weapon replacement. . ._

"Sven?"

_How can that nuisance use up so many smoke grenades in one case? I keep telling him it costs too much._

"Please, Sven. I need to talk to you."

"Creed, not now. I have _got_ to get this work done." Sven frowned, typing in the numbers and hoping this time they'd come out in the black. _No. Vain hope. DRAT that man._

"But... Sven. . ."

"Talk to Train. He's out back working out with Eve."

"I can't." The plaintive tone didn't really register with Sven and he kept typing as Creed continued, "It's about his birthday gift. It's almost the thirteenth and I haven't thought of anything good enough to give him."

Absently, Sven said, "How about a new attitude?"

Creed sighed. "Custom cannot stale his infinite variety. Besides, that'd be for you, not him."

_Bullets aren't so bad, but they're still expensive, especially the custom-made ones._ "Buy him more weaponry."

Another sigh. "That'd still be more for you than him," Creed pointed out sourly. "Besides I got that already. _Please_ Sven."

Sven took a deep breath, not even glancing at the younger man. "Creed, I really have to finish this. I got behind on the budgeting and now we've got problems. Could we talk later? Or just think of something he likes a lot and get him that. You know, like some expensive food or drink."

After a moment's silence, Creed left the room and Sven got back to work.

-

Creed leaned against the windowsill watching his beloved exercise with Eve. She was obviously frustrated with him, annoyed at the ease with which her attacks were repulsed. _She shouldn't be. She's very good. It's not her fault he's so much better._ Not that he didn't understand, though. He too had felt that frustration. That utter inability to get past his Cat's defenses. _Any of them. Body, mind or heart. He's so far away. Even when he's right in front of me._

All of which was doing nothing towards solving his problem. He fingered the collar at his neck absently, stroking the diamond shaped locket attached to it. He knew he'd never get such a wonderful gift again, but he desperately wanted to give back in return. To find a gift as good as the one that had been given was impossible, but he had to try.

_Food or drink. Anything I get him he'd eat up right away. I want to give him something lasting._ Creed knew his love that much. Even when they'd been partners before he'd known his beloved to have a gluttonous and unreserved appetite. It was all part of what made Train who he was, carefree and gloriously spontaneous. _Everything I wasn't. Everything I'm not. Everything I would give anything to be able to be._

With a sigh, Creed forced those thoughts away. He really had to concentrate on the question at hand. It would be so much easier if Train liked having 'things' more. Money and material goods mattered not at all to the Black Cat, just the desire of the moment. _I'd give him back Saya, if I could, but. . ._ Now he was just getting silly and Creed smacked himself across the face in an effort to force himself to concentrate. _All right. Food or drink. Maybe if I got him something that could keep giving? A year's supply of something maybe._

A thought was beginning to form. A glimmer of an idea, though he wasn't exactly sure yet how it could be brought about. He headed up to his room, and his computer.

-

-

_April 8, 2004 _

Sven ambled downstairs, feeling very pleased with himself. It had taken a week, but he'd finally figured out a way to make the budget work. Moreover, Train and Eve were off on a case and would be bringing home their next 'paycheck' in a few days. Things would be tight, of course, but it could be done. _All things considered, though, we wouldn't be able to if Creed weren't paying his own way. One fourth of household expenses isn't a lot, but it's just barely enough._

Thinking of Creed made Sven wonder where their bewildered and bewildering housemate was. He'd said something about an important package coming in that day after breakfast and had been doing something in the back yard in the garden shed that he'd bought last year to store his tools. _Probably has something to do with Train's birthday. Wonder what he could have gotten?_

To say that Sven wasn't mildly worried would have been inaccurate. He knew Creed's ability to make the wrong choices only too well. Yet the kid had been doing well lately, thinking first more often and paying better attention. He still talked weird, but Sven was almost used to the nonsense by now. _Ah well, never mind. I'm inclined to let him handle it. He's more apt to resent it if I try and help._

Turning on the TV, Sven settled down for some serious veggie time.

-

"Sven?" Creed shifted nervously in the doorway to the living room, hating to bother his beloved's partner and yet desperate now. He had a dreadful feeling that he'd really messed up, though he was completely unable to figure out what he'd done wrong. "Help me if you can?"

"Feeling down?" Under other circumstances, Creed would have been amused at how often his housemate would follow through on those references he used that were easily recognized. Right now, however, he simply shook his head, feeling miserable. "What is it?" Sven got up, looking worried.

Taking a deep breath, Creed asked, "Is there any chance you know how to milk a cow?"

There was silence. "A. . . cow?" Sven's expression turned long-suffering. "A. Cow." As Creed nodded slowly, Sven shook his head. "Yeah. I know how. I grew up on a farm. Hated it, but I can do it. Why? Is that what you got Train? A cow?" He looked rather like he'd swallowed something extremely sour and unpleasant.

In a tiny voice, Creed whispered. "I've done it again, haven't I?" He felt helpless, unable to figure out what to do. The cow in itself had left him too confused for words. He'd wanted to try milking it immediately, but had been at a loss for how to begin.

"Where in God's name did you get a cow?"

Creed shrugged, trying to smile and failing. "I ordered it on the phone. Researched it completely. The breed is good the best and tastiest milk producers out there and this one's pedigree is an arm long." He was forcing himself to talk sense, not daring to let his usual tendencies interfere with being understood. "I would have ordered it on the internet, but. . . well. . ."

"You would have had to get me or Train to help." Sven closed his eyes, looking chagrinned. "And I've been pretty well ignoring you while I worked on that budget problem." His sigh seemed as much for himself as for Creed, much to Creed's relief. "Okay. Let's go look at it."

-

"I don't think," Sven said as they walked out into the garden and towards the shed, "That you've done something horribly wrong. But a cow. . . They're hard to take care of. We really. . ." He stopped, staring in disbelief at what was peacefully cropping grass behind the building, a long heavy rope tied to its halter and knotted onto a post. ". . .oh god. . ."

"I really messed up, didn't I?" Creed sounded so utterly wretched and self-contemptuous that Sven put a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Completely and utterly."

Sven took a deep, long, breath. "Well. . . there _is_ another problem, Creed." He glanced at his housemate. "Didn't they teach you anything about the birds and the bees at Chronos?" The confusion in Creed's face answered the question. "That's a bull."

"So?" Creed blinked at Sven with that wide eyed look he got when they entered territory entirely out of his experience. "What do bulls have to do with birds and bees anyway?"

"Cows are female, bulls are male." Sven sighed at the continued confusion in the man's face. "You can't _get_ milk from a bull."

Creed blinked at him, looking even more bewildered. "You can't? But it. . . I mean. . . he has something there. . . Isn't that. . ."

Sven choked. "Creed. Please tell me you didn't try!" He was almost sure not. The bull looked pretty quiet and calm, too calm even for a well-behaved bull who'd just had a crazy man trying to get personal with him.

"Oh, no. I got so confused I didn't know what I should do first. He didn't seem to expect me to get near him there and. . . I hoped you'd be able to tell me what I was doing wrong." Sven sighed at Creed's expression of wide-eyed innocence. "I was hoping it wasn't everything, but I guess it was. I'm such a damned fool. So utterly incompetent." He was crying now, looking as absolutely lost and unhappy as Sven had ever seen him.

Taking Creed by the shoulders, Sven led him over to the bench and forced him to sit. Giving the kid a few minutes to weep, he waited, then finally said, "You are _not_ a fool and you are _not_ incompetent."

Dark eyes raised to Sven's. "But. . .."

"You're ignorant. Considering your background it's only to be expected. Chronos probably didn't cover anything like animal husbandry. Knowing the difference between males and females is the sort of thing you learn when you're a kid and. . . well you never really had a chance for that either, did you?" It occurred to Sven to wonder if Creed even had a concept of what his love for Train might mean.

Slowly Creed shook his head. "I don't remember. I suppose not."

"Well then, let me explain." Sven sat down and launched into a short but as accurate explanation of reproduction as he could, ending with, "So that bull over there can't possibly provide any milk."

-

Creed sighed. He sort of understood what he'd done wrong. The people he'd ordered the bull from had no reason to believe he didn't know what he wanted and had simply accepted the order. He felt deeply sorry that he had so little understanding of such things but he was beginning to feel better. Except, "What do I do, Sven? I can't possibly send him back and get a female in time."

"To tell the truth, Creed," Sven said gently, "A cow isn't really a good choice anyway."

"But. . .."

"I know. The very best milk in the whole wide world. Nothing wrong with that part, it's the rest that you aren't considering. Cows need to be fed, and cared for and cleaned up after. Not to mention they have to have calves in order to have milk, which means you'd have to deal with a baby, too. Do you really want to spend the rest of its life that way?"

Creed took a deep breath. If it meant giving Train that something special that helped say just how much he loved the man, just how much he appreciated all Train had done for him, then he would do anything. "I would."

With a sigh, Sven shook his head. "Creed, a cow takes a lot of care. A lot of time and energy. Even just one. It'd take up _all_ your time, I'm afraid. And with no experience in dealing with animals you'd have a rough time doing what needed to be done." At Creed's half-angry, half-anguished expression the blonde continued. "On the other hand, I have an idea. Are you willing to listen?"

Desperate, Creed nodded.

"All right. There's a dairy not far from here. About two, three, miles." Creed was about to protest that he didn't have enough allowance to buy a whole dairy, but Sven raised a hand. "Now that bull over there isn't going to give you milk, no, but he's got something else to give and if his pedigree is really as long as your arm I bet he'll be very welcome."

Creed didn't understand and said as much.

Shaking his head, Sven reminded Creed gently, "Remember what I said about the male cows impregnating the female? Farmers want good stock. I bet you could make a bargain with the dairy room & board and a year's supply of milk in return for Ferdinand over there's services as a stud."

Creed frowned. "Stud? Something to hold the wall up? How would that be worth so much?"

A soft laugh escaped Sven's lips. Creed wasn't sure why it didn't bother him this time he hated being laughed at but there was a kindness to it that he couldn't object to. "Being a stud in this context means siring calves on as many cows as possible. Which means that in a couple of years you'll be getting that really good milk from some of the cows your friend here fathered. For now you'll have to make do with what the dairy has, but isn't that better than trying to do all that yourself?"

Creed had to agree it was.

-

-

_April 13, 2004 _

"Happy Birthday, dear Train, Happy Birthday to you. . ."

Train grinned happily, enjoying both the attention and the scent of food rising from the table. That meatloaf _I mean, paté_ that he really liked, a salmon, beautifully roasted, a platter of cheese and fruit and as an elaborate centerpiece, a large white cake with red roses, a single black cat curled up for a nap on the top around the candle. _He really does have a thing about what a birthday cake should be like._ Train wasn't bothered by it though not having any specific preferences in that direction. It was food and that was the important part.

More important at the moment, though, were the presents being put before him. Eve's, Sven's and Creed's. Not being sure whose to open first, he closed his eyes and sing-songed, "Eeney meeney miney moe. . .." The box he took was Eve's and ripping it open he found a nice new belt for his hand-grenades. "Oh, way cool. The old one was getting worn."

"I noticed," Eve agreed. "It was about time for a change."

Train looked at the other gifts thoughtfully, then pulled out a coin. "Heads, Sven. Tails, Creed." Both men nodded and if a faintly wistful look crossed Creed's face, Train was careful to ignore it. Creed opened gifts to him in the order of their importance to him, saving the best for last. Train would easily admit to not being entirely bright about some stuff but he could tell what would happen if he did things that way. Open Creed's gift first and while he would understand and accept the choice as only his just desserts, he'd still be hurt. Open it last and he'd get ideas. _I don't want to cause him pain but I don't want him to be encouraged, either._

The coin came up tails, so Train picked up Creed's present and listened to it slosh with interest. Ripping the paper to shreds he blinked at the thermos bottle, then opened it. "Oh, that smells _good_." At least it now explained what certain bits of evidence were in the back yard, particularly the one he'd stepped in while he was working out with Sven two nights ago. Sven had been strangely uncommunicative as to how that had gotten there. He'd wondered if it had something to do with his birthday, though he'd not been sure how. He took a deep breath, the sweet, fresh, scent of milk filling his nostrils.

The look on Creed's face as Train downed several good swallows was about the happiest Train had seen him, with the exception of the moment his friend had opened up Train's birthday gift to him. "Open the envelope," however, was all Creed said, pointing at the item taped to the thermos.

Train did so and frowned at the paper, between chugging his gift down. _Legalese. Figures it'd be something I can't understand. . .. Wait a minute. . .._ One delivery per day in return for services rendered, contract to be renewed once a year, owner to be responsible for medical expenses. . . _He bought me a cow. Or. . . rather a bull. . ._ Train nearly started laughing but realized how hurt Creed would be just in time. Some of the plan had Sven's earmark though, which told Train that Creed had probably gotten himself in a bit of trouble and had needed help. From what the contract said, he suspected what that trouble had been.

"This is great!" Train said, steadfastly refusing to question how everything had come about. Obviously it _had_ been achieved and if Creed had needed help he'd apparently known to ask. Certainly there wasn't nearly the mess or upset in the house that there'd have been if Creed had gone on his sweet, confused and bewildered way. "A year's supply of milk. Really great!" It was, too. Sven was always complaining about the cost of milk these days and Train knew he was perfectly capable of putting away a gallon a day. As Sven was known to say, it _did_ add up.

"You. . . you really like it?" Creed sounded uncertain and a little scared.

With a nod, Train chugged another good sized swallow. "_Good_ stuff. There more in the fridge?" At Creed's smile he laughed out loud. "Yeah. I like it. Like it a lot."

"In that case," Sven said, a small smile quirking his lips, "How about you finish opening presents so we can get to the important stuff. Eating."

-

Creed leaned against the balcony and gazed out at the woods beyond, content far beyond anything he suspected he had a right to be. He'd managed not to screw up, not entirely at least. _I needed help to do the right thing, but I didn't do something horrible._ He was deeply relieved that Sven had been there to help him. He was even more deeply relieved that he'd controlled a momentary and entirely irrational urge to blame that poor stupid beast for his own mistake. An earlier Creed would have killed the animal out of hand, unable to look at his mistake without pain and anger.

More importantly, though, was the fact that while he'd gone about it by an awkward route he'd made a good choice of gifts. _I could never give him something as wonderful as what he's given me, but at least I've given something he really values._ He sighed happily, remembering Train's pleasure. "Hello, Train," he whispered, hearing a step behind him and not needing to turn to know who it was.

"Did a pretty good job, you know."

_Even greater happiness. His voice. Listening to him._ Creed felt close to bursting with joy. _Pleasing him._ "I did good?"

"Better than I'd have expected. Not just what you got me. You worked with Sven. You found a way out of a mess I'm pretty certain you got yourself into all without getting wildly upset." Train leaned on the balcony beside Creed. "Sven told me. . . Well, only after I asked, of course."

Glancing at his beloved, Creed managed a smile. "I told him it'd be okay. I thought you might. . . realize what I did." He glanced down at the yard below. "Did my best to clean up the mess Ferdinand left, but. . .."

"That cow patty in the back," Train agreed. "Didn't know what was up, but I figured I'd find out sooner or later." His chuckle was sweet music to Creed's ears. "Is it okay, Creed, if we don't try and make the rest of our gifts to each other the most wonderful thing in the world?"

Creed blinked at him. "I know I couldn't. There's only one thing that might make you really happy and. . . it's not in my power." He trembled. "I can't raise the dead. Right now I wish I could."

Train patted his shoulder and Creed forced himself not to wriggle like an overexcited puppy at the rare touch. "I won't say 'no regrets', Creed. But the past is just that, past. Let's not dwell on it."

"If. . . that's what you want Train." Creed sighed. He knew better than to say the rest of what was on his mind. That if Train ever decided that he wanted Creed to pay the final price for what he'd done, if the only thing that would ever make things right for his beloved was his death, he'd give up his life in an instant. _It only makes him uncomfortable when I talk like that. And he knows it anyway._

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. Not just for the gift but for being able to. . . learn from your mistake. You've made a lot of progress." Creed smiled at his friend, who leaned on the balcony again. "You did very good."

With a happy sigh, Creed leaned on the balcony again, content in the silence and pleased with life as he had seldom been. _It doesn't matter if he never loves me. I will always love _him In the end, that was the thing that mattered most.

To Be Continued. . .


	35. Chatting Up A Storm

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

For some reason the last chapter had 133 characters in it, even though hasn't given me any problems over those weird special characters before this. I've fixed them here but can't be sure it's worked. Apologies if they're still messed up. Once the help desk is back up over there I'll see what's wrong and what can be done to fix it.

* * *

CHATTING UP A STORM

_May 16, 2004 _

"Train?"

Glancing up from the TV, Train had a feeling from Creed's expression that he was going to ask for something strange again. "Yeah?"

Creed sat down, hesitantly, on the chair next to the couch. "Fred asked if I could join the mailing list chat tonight. Is... is it all right?" He gave Train a direct look. "He wanted to go over that recipe I was trying to write up. I can't seem to make it understandable and..."

"Fred? Oh, that guy on the list." Train was often amazed at how easily Creed could make friends. For someone as insanely strange as Creed always had been, his charisma - when focused on being amiable and personable - could be almost overwhelming. Train had marveled over it before, when they'd been partners. The same psychotic and murderous maniac had been able to conceal his behavior at least long enough to lull their targets into a sense of security.

_And now that he's no longer the maniac, all that polite, sweet friendliness seems to have doubled. He's just plain nice when he wants to be._ Still, that didn't make the idea of a chat a good one. "Is there a reason you couldn't just keep it to e-mail?"

"Annette's birthday is tomorrow. I really wanted to have the recipe right by then." Creed looked embarrassedly away, flushing a bit. "She gave me such a nice gift for my birthday and... It's a bad idea, isn't it? I told him I didn't think it would be okay."

"Let me think about this." Train watched his companion for a long moment. With Sven on a job, he and Eve were the only ones who could watch Creed during a chat. _I have that banquet I'm supposed to go to, though. Sven would be pretty mad if I didn't._ Even if it _was_ something he'd rather wear barbed wire underwear than attend._ Still, that leaves Eve. She can keep him out of trouble._ That Eve wasn't much better socialized than Creed was something that didn't occur to Train.

-

-

Fred blinked at the name that had just joined the chat list. "Creed? You made it?" he typed. "Your last email said your guardian probably wouldn't let you." Creed had mentioned his guardian occasionally - yet another sign that he was probably a somewhat indulged and overly intelligent teenager - and Fred had figured that indulgence only went so far.

Another chatter, SolFilet, posted an incredulous smiley face. "Guardian? How old _are_ you anyway. I thought this chat room was for adults."

Creed's answer took a bit of time coming. "Physically? Intellectually? Psychologically? Emotionally?"

With a laugh, JerethsFilly suggested, "All of the above."

Fred waited for the answer curiously and raised a brow when it came back, "24, 49, 13 and 6... No, my guardian's partner says I've gotten to about 8 now."

It was only when the sour laughter from SoylentGreenVerdant started that Fred realized that there might be trouble. He hadn't even thought about Verdant making it onto the chat - the man usually didn't do nearly so well there as he did when he had time to think out the most devastating insult he possibly could. _Not good,_ Fred thought as Verdant posted, "Told you, Sol. There's no way that pusstulant phuquer is the _real_ Creed Diskence."

"Verdant? Need I remind you that while I can't throw you off the mailing list," Coromant noted tiredly, "I'm perfectly capable of banning you from this chat room, since I'm the one who created it. Knock off the faux swearing. We all know what you're trying to say and you aren't allowed to use that kind of language on this chat."

It amused Fred when Creed added quietly, "I'm pretty sure that first word should be spelled pustulant. At least, that's what Webster's is saying."

"Spelling flames are 1am3, kid," SolFilet answered.

Creed was silent a moment. "Er... I'm sorry. I don't recognize 1am3. It isn't one of the languages I know."

"That's cause u.r. an ignerent merkin." SolFilet snapped back. Fred knew that - if Creed were an American - he was managing to post from somewhere in Switzerland. Besides, Annette's student had to live somewhere near her "U probably don't no n.e. language but English."

Fred thought about interfering, but Creed had been intriguing him for a while now and he was curious to see what the boy would do. He wasn't disappointed. "No, I'm fluent in French, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, German, Swahili, Arabic, Hindu and Korean. I've never quite managed to work out how to _write_ Arabic though. And written and colloquial Tibetan still gives me fits."

Coromant asked something in Swahili, reminding Fred that she was in charge of the Languages department at Harvard. Rather to his surprise, Creed answered with only a moment's hesitation in the same language. As the others chatted about other things, the two talked back and forth. Fred watched with interest, deciding that this was almost more entertaining than baiting Verdant and his buddies. _A bit slow to respond, but he has a good grasp of the language. Not being helped by a dictionary program, then. _

-

Creed glanced sideways at Eve, who was watching the exchange in Swahili with interest, her connection to the 'net via her hair allowing her to use one of the many translation programs to follow the conversation. It was a bit surprising to find someone so fluent in the language on the chat group but it was pleasant to stretch his thoughts a bit. " Apologies for my slowness. " he typed. " I have not needed to talk in Swahili for some years now. I hope my spelling is understandable "

" Accepted, Creed. Your spelling is just fine. You learned the language from a West Kenyan? Your phrasing suggests that. "

" I am not sure " Creed answered thoughtfully. " It is possible. I had a number of teachers at the time and they never told me their background. "

As the chat continued Creed suddenly remembered that he'd come there for a reason. " Excuse me, Coromant. My manners are bad. Fred invited me and I have not even greeted him. I came to discuss a recipe with him. May we continue this discussion later, by email, perhaps "

" Of course. "

Turning his attention back to Fred, he noted that the man had been fairly quiet, interjecting a few humorous comments to some of the other posters. "I'm sorry, Fred. I came in to discuss that recipe with you as you'd asked. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Coromant added, "And it's rude of us to keep talking in a language no one else understands." She shifted over to another conversation as Fred accepted the apology graciously, continuing with, "Now then. The problem is I think you're being too specific."

As they discussed the recipe various other chatters tossed in a suggestion or so. Creed paid attention to some and ignored others, especially the suggestions from Verdant and SolFilet. He had a pretty good idea that they were more interested in being trouble than in helping out.

"Why are they saying things like that?" Eve asked as the recipe finally ironed itself out into something Fred thought was clear enough for Annette to understand. "I thought that list you were on was to help people with cooking."

Shrugging, Creed glanced his companion's way. "Isn't that the way they say it goes? I mean, it's human nature. Let he without guilt cast the first stone." He knew he'd been no better in his own ugly way than Verdant was. "At least they are on line, posting their meanness where they can't hurt anyone."

"Words hurt too, Creed," Eve pointed out and Creed winced. "I'm sorry. I just don't see why they should spill so much bile on everyone." She seemed to realize that Creed was feeling particularly tense over the question and smiled. "You're the wrong one to ask, aren't you?"

"I'm broken," Creed said softly. "No point in asking me for social advice. Aside from the standard rules, I suppose." He glanced back at the chat window and typed, "Oh, black chicken. I've always wanted to try that."

-

_Only on this list,_ Fred thought wryly as the conversation shifted, then shifted again, _could you turn the topic from an innocent bird to the effects of a 'sucking chest wound' with one sentence._ Once the topic shifted from the mythological curative properties of black chicken to sucking chest wounds he stayed out of it. Everyone on the list knew he'd been a Sweeper before he'd retired. He didn't mind discussing his experiences, but felt the facts tended to interfere with the rest of the group's fun. Unsurprisingly, Creed got himself caught up in the conversation, his occasionally peculiar comments leaving the others confused and amused. Equally unsurprisingly, Verdant involved himself as well.

"I saw one movie... Killer from Shantung... where a character took a knife wound and fought everyone to a standstill before he died," SolFilet posted.

"Well, that was a gut shot, though," Creed pointed out. "I thought we were discussing sucking chest wounds?"

"Gut, chest. What's the dif, jackass?" Verdant asked.

"Plenty," Creed answered. "Gut, you lose blood fast, but if you can take the pain you might be able to keep moving for a bit - though I wouldn't bet on it. With a sucking chest wound you've lost at least a quarter to half of your lung capacity. It's awfully hard to move around that way. The body needs oxygen to keep going." He went on to describe, with exquisite detail, exactly what a sucking chest wound was.

Verdant's sneering icon appeared a moment later. "And I suppose you're an expert? Ever had one? Or better yet, ever _given_ anybody a sucking chest wound, _Mister_ Diskence?"

Fred was too busy blinking at the description to interject anything. As it turned out, he didn't need to. Creed was silent for a very long moment before he finally posted, "I'm... sorry... I don't think I'd better keep posting right now." Then his name disappeared from the list.

As Verdant began crowing over his 'win' Fred gazed thoughtfully at the screen. At last he typed, "Verdant, much as I _hate_ to interrupt your celebration, you didn't win anything. He's right. And before you ask - I've not only had one, I've inflicted them. Don't forget what I used to do before I retired."

Coromant posted a wide eyed smiley face. "Maybe he really _is_ Creed Diskence?" she teased. "Better be careful, Verdant. You may have made him angry."

As the others made fun of the idea, one pointing out that since Creed was Annette's apprentice she was probably the source of his other information as well, Fred gazed at the screen thoughtfully. At last he made his farewells and signed off. He stopped only long enough to save the entire chat before going to re-read every one of the posts the boy calling himself Creed Diskence had been involved with since his appearance on the list.

Finally, re-reading the chat, he made his decision and reached for the phone. _I think it's time to pay Annette a surprise birthday visit._

-

-

_May 17, 2004 _

Creed poked around under the counter, trying to see the fork that had managed to fall behind. No matter how far it had gone he was sure he could get it. The problem was _seeing_ the thing first, since - unlike Eve - his left arm's nerve endings weren't as sensitive as they needed to be when he shifted its shape. "I need an Imagine Flashlight," he muttered, then jerked as the bell over the café's entrance jingled. "We're closed!" he called out, adding grumpily. "And if that's _you_ Annette, you're too early. There's no place like home!"

A male voice chuckled. "No, not Annette. Just an old friend of hers." Footsteps came around to the doorway of the kitchen. "She's out, then?"

Creed grumbled a few things under his breath, then said, more loudly, as he continued fishing for the fork, "It's her birthday. I made her take the day off. If you want to see her, you'll need to go over the river and through the woods to her house."

"I probably will... er... can I help you?"

"Got light?"

A flashlight beam flickered beside Creed, gleaming on a metallic object. "Thanks. It's amazing how far the thing bounced when it landed." He stretched his left arm out, reshaping it until the fingers could wrap around the fork, then pulled the utensil out. "I was preparing some shrimp and the foolish thing just slipped out of my hand and went bing."

As Creed crawled out from under the counter he straightened up to find himself looking at an older, grey-haired man who was staring at him with an expression of utter shock and dismay. "My God! You really _are_ Creed Diskence."

-

Fred couldn't quite believe it. The face was right, though the expression was quite a bit more innocent than the pictures he'd seen in the wanted posters. White hair, black eyes, a dog collar around his neck with a locket attached. All that was missing was the leopard skin shirt and white coat. It almost seemed wrong for Creed Diskence to be dressed in faded jeans, an old T-shirt flecked with shrimp shell and an apron with a little chicken printed on the front pocket.

The young man sitting on the floor blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Not tonight dear, I have a headache," he whispered and Fred was reminded of the odd non-sequiturs that frequently showed up in the posts he'd seen on the mailing list. "I... I mean... I'm not..."

"Not Creed Diskence?" Fred asked, wryly. "Which one? The one on the mailing list or the one that's wanted for murder and terrorism."

"I'm not wanted anymore!" Creed said indignantly. "Don't any of you Sweepers pay attention to the news? Wait... List? You're on the cooking list?" Fred could see the wheels shifting gear as Creed rose to his feet, eyes scared as he backed away. "Fred? You're Fred, aren't you? Please. Don't make me fight. I don't want to hurt you accidentally."

Fred couldn't help himself. "What about on purpose?"

"I don't want to do that either. I'm... retired. Reformed." The dark eyes were wide and frightened and Fred took sudden pity on the young man in front of him, remembering what Creed had said about himself in the chat. _24 years old physically. 49 intellectually. 13 psychologically and just about 8 or so emotionally._ He sat down and put his hands on the table in front of him, to Creed's obvious relief. There was a moment of silence before the young man finally asked. "Could... could I make you a cup of coffee?"

-

-

"I'm just glad you have more sense than those two Sweepers who came after him last year," Train said, smiling at the older man as they watched the party. Annette was a favorite among the townsfolk and people had been drifting in and out of the café since the party had started. The scent of cooking food, baked breads, cakes and various types of coffee filled the air. Creed had insisted on paying for the party - using up his allowance for the month to do it - further evidence of the man's ability to take things to extremes. If Train and Sven hadn't restrained him he would have used his food allowance as well - on the grounds that he didn't _have_ to eat that much.

_Which is silly, considering what those nano-machines require._ Train grinned, watching his housemate happily serving a guest, dark eyes radiant. He did _so_ love to be helpful. "To be honest, I know this must be hard to accept." He glanced at Phelps.

"I trust Annette's judgment. I'm not sure about yours, young man." At Train's grin, Phelps chuckled. "For what it's worth, I think you're probably right about him, now. There's no guarantee that he won't go back to what he was, of course, but I don't think there's any guarantee that _anyone_ can't possibly go insane. I'm glad he isn't my responsibility, though."

Train laughed. "Responsibility. My worst enemy. To tell the truth, I got into this because I felt guilty about what I did to him." He glanced Creed's way, saw him laughing at something Sven had said, and continued, "He'll always need watching, of course."

"Mmmm. You said something about brain damage. Have you ever found out how it happened?"

Train gave the older Sweeper a puzzled look. "Not really. It's over and done, after all. Why should I?"

Phelps looked consideringly at the pale-haired man across the room. "I get the impression it bugs him that no one believes it was a lobotomy. Knowing what happened might help him feel better about it."

"Yeah," Train said softly. "He tries to hide it, but I know he hates it when someone disbelieves him." He nodded. "You're right. I won't mention it to him until I have something, but Sven and I will look into it as soon as we can." He grinned at Phelps. "In the meantime, thanks for taking care of him on list."

"He's Annette's protégé," Phelps pointed out. "It's the least I can do for a good friend's student."

-

-

_May 21, 2004 _

Creed entered the chat list a bit nervously and scanned through the names. As a series of welcomes filled the screen he replied first to Fred's. "Thank you. I'm glad to see you made it home safely. The weather was so bad I was a bit worried."

"I took the train. Good thing my car was a rental," Fred answered while Creed acknowledged the other welcomes. He was sorry to see Verdant among the names of those on the list and equally glad that the man wasn't bothering to acknowledge him.

Coromant asked, "You met face to face, Fred?"

Creed searched out a smiley from the list and added, "It was for Annette's birthday party," he explained. "It was a nice surprise. We had a good time."

"Is he really as weird as he sounds here?" SolFilet asked.

"I'm worse," Creed noted quietly. "I have a... speech defect. It makes me hard to understand. I mean, even harder than on-line. I can edit myself, here."

Fred added, wryly, "It's not impossible to work through. At least Creed doesn't use profanities as punctuation. All you need is a good memory and a fondness for movies and literature."

Verdant's post followed, "So, Fred. You going to join in the fiction that the dweeb's really Creed Diskence?"

Fred 'chuckled'. "Well, Verdant, if he was, do you think I'd admit it? I wouldn't want people bothering Annette."

Train laughed as he watched the conversation. "Phelps is a sly old fox," he noted.

"It would really annoy Annette if people kept coming after me," Creed typed, smiling at Train and nodding. "It messes up the café, and not everyone knows that Creed Diskence is retired, yet."

Verdant was silent only a moment. "It'll really mess the café up if the _real_ Creed Diskence showed up to complain about your using his name, arsehole."

"Verdant. Language," Coromant interjected.

Creed glanced at Train beside him, then typed, "I tell you what, Verdant. If you ever run across the _real_ Creed Diskence you're welcome to ask him what he thinks about me." At Train's grin and nod he hit enter.

"Think I could get him to give me a lesson in sucking chest wounds?"

"Oh no. Creed Diskence much preferred decapitation. Much more efficient," Creed typed back, again waiting for Train's nod.

Slowly the conversation shifted subjects and Creed was careful to avoid too many smart responses to Verdant. The risk of mistakes was too high and even with Train to keep him out of trouble he wanted nothing to interfere with his pleasure at actually making some friends. Content and pleased with himself, Creed smiled. _Somehow my life has become so much better,_ he thought. _I don't deserve it, but I am just so glad to be here._ He didn't bother thinking about what might happen if he lost this pleasure. He was where he wanted to be and the future would have to take care of itself.

To Be Continued...


	36. Intermezzo: Unknown

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: UNKNOWN

_May 23, 2004 _  
Two shadowed figures faced each other, neither particularly pleased with the other, both forced by circumstances to cooperate. "I do _not_ require assistance."

"As was so well proven by your last attempt."

A growl of frustration, all the more aggravated for having to acknowledge truth. Soothingly, the other added, "You are more accustomed to killing. Abduction requires a different set of skills. I should have realized that the first time."

Lugado glared at his employer still, but nodded. "Why not just kill him. He's hopeless now. Just garbage, as you so 'elegantly' put it." He still wasn't certain how Creed Diskence had knocked him unconscious last autumn, but having watched the man for over half a year, waiting for the perfect opportunity, it had become very clear that he was so far over the edge into insanity that he was no longer capable of being a menace. Not that Lugado cared one way or the other, but it mattered to his employer.

"There is still hope that I can salvage the situation. My reasons for wishing him in my hands before have not changed." The man shrugged. "Does it matter? I want him alive."

Lugado sighed inwardly. "No. It doesn't matter. Very well, Heartnet and the girl will be out of town. Ordinarily, it would be safer to make the attempt when she is the only one watching him, but it seems that Chronos doubles its security around the house on those occasions." That had been the biggest complication in the plan to capture Diskence. It wasn't that Lugado was afraid of the organization but he recognized when discretion was the better part of valor.

"Why not a time when Heartnet is the only one watching? It would be far more useful to have _him_ in hand."

Snorting, Lugado shook his head. "They never leave Heartnet entirely alone with Diskence." It had taken several months of surveillance before he'd realized that point, another week or so before he thought he understood why. Heartnet apparently didn't trust the lunatic enough to be alone with him. It was an amazing job of acting on Heartnet's part that he pretended to be fond enough of Diskence to allow him into their lives, but it had to be an act. No one could possibly accept an obsession like Diskence's as being based on something real. "Besides, catching the Black Cat would be one thing. Keeping him quite another."

"Well, you're the expert on Heartnet, then. And, perhaps you're right. We can use Volfeed as a lever to get him to transfer his guardianship." Lugado's employer sat back, satisfied. "I'll leave the planning to you, then. My guards have all been ordered to follow your instructions."

"Very well, then. Tomorrow, I will capture Creed Diskence for you." Lugado smiled to himself. Perhaps later, his employer could be persuaded to allow him a rematch against the lunatic, a chance to find out exactly what the Imagine Blade really was.

He was looking forward to it.

To Be Continued...


	37. Kidnapped

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

KIDNAPPED

_May 25, 2004 _

Sven moaned, putting a hand to his forehead and trying to work out what he'd done to deserve the dwarf hammering on an anvil in his skull. It was apparently an ugly dwarf that hadn't bothered to bathe for a century or so, based on the foul taste in his mouth. _Must have been rooting around in a sewer for a while, too. _

Slowly, though, memory returned. Sitting in the living room reading, a quiet evening at home with keeping an eye on the kid while Train and Eve handled a case. Creed had just finished watching Iron Chef and was chuckling with pleasure over Sakai - his favorite's - win when the smoke bomb had shattered the window and filled the room with a thick, acrid, gas. Choking, tears pouring out of his eyes, Sven had tried to get to his feet - only to fall over a moment later when the sleeping gas took effect.

"Creed..." He opened his eyes and found himself lying in what looked like a padded cell. _Looks like, hell. It _is_ a padded cell. What is going _on_ here?_

The room was empty and Sven got to his feet. "HEY! SOMEBODY? WHAT'S WITH THIS?" He rather doubted he'd get a good explanation of the situation, but he figured he'd better play the part of a confused prisoner. Especially since that was pretty much what he was. Hammering on the door as loudly as he could he continued shouting.

A minute passed, then a panel in the door slid aside and a face looked in through the small hole. An older woman, she looked a bit nervous. "Doctor? He's awake." She was speaking French, though that didn't really tell Sven anything.

The voice that spoke wasn't one he was expecting, though it was somewhat familiar. Too old a voice to belong to Creed's old companion - Doctor - the accent was pure Normandy French. "Indeed, Nurse? I would have thought _that_ was obvious." There was a sarcastic air to the tone, a sense that the speaker considered himself superior to everyone.

Sven glared through the window at the woman, then peered past into the room beyond. It looked like an examination room of some sort. There was a black chair in the middle and strapped to it was a thin, pale-haired, figure dressed in a grey hospital uniform - slumped and mumbling under his breath. "Creed! What have you done to him?" He scanned the room and spotted to man who'd just spoken. "CARVEL? YOU?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Volfeed. I apologize for the rough treatment, but I'm afraid there was no way we could take Guilliaume without taking you as well. Otherwise you might have contacted your friend and come after us." A smile crossed the older man's face. "We don't want Mr. Heartnet to find out until it's too late."

"TRAIN! I WANT TRAIN!"

Dr. Carvel glanced wryly at Creed. "I'm afraid that isn't possible, Guilliaume. After all, your guardian would probably have some objections to our proposed course of treatment."

Creed howled and struggled against the straps weakly, but something seemed to be keeping him from full consciousness. Sven growled a curse. "What treatment?"

The doctor moved to stand so he could look at Sven. "Mr. DeVerry was badly traumatized by one of this hospital's doctors. A regrettable circumstance, all the more so since Dr. Kiel wasn't able to properly complete the procedure - owing to the fact that Guilliaume killed him. We can't repair the damage done, but we can mitigate the circumstances by returning the boy to solitary confinement. Of course, we'll have to get him placed under our guardianship again. His grandfather stupidly believed that something could be done to help the poor wretched creature. Apparently that charlatan you hired thinks the same. Stupid fool. As if the brain could ever be rewired by something so simple as Redirection!"

Sven swallowed. "Solitary confinement?" He knew Creed. Knew that while the little madman didn't mind being alone he also always wanted to be _near_ people at the same time. The realization that Creed's belief that he'd been deliberately damaged was true hit then and he swallowed, hard.

"Possibly some electro-shock therapy to help keep him under control. Though sedation was - mostly - effective enough when he was here last time." Carvel shrugged. "Unfortunately, we'll have to do something about you as well. We would have waited for a better opportunity, but it appeared to me that certain facts about the past were returning to Mr. DeVerry's thoughts and that made him too dangerous to be allowed freedom."

"You..." Words failed Sven and he glanced over at Creed, who was still crying weakly. _We have to get out of here._ "Creed! Snap out of it! You have to help me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Volfeed," Carvel grumbled. "He's heavily sedated. His stamina has always amazed me, of course, but there's no way that he's going to break free. Now, now, Mr. Volfeed. Let's not force me to use the same drugs on you. I'd rather you stayed rational. You know Guilliaume is a danger to everyone around him. My employee may not have been able to capture him before, but he _did_ figure out that you are very aware of the boy's potential for violence. Come now. Isn't it better for everyone if the dear lad is put away - for everyone's own good?"

Sven suddenly realized why he had been taken. Not just to keep Train and Eve from catching up too soon, but to use him as a barter point with Train. His partner would be forced to choose between Creed and Sven's lives and his guardianship over Creed would be the prize. That was why Carvel was trying so hard to convince him to cooperate, so that he would - in turn - convince Train. _No. I refuse to let this happen._ The problem was, with Creed obviously completely out of it, there was no way to get out. "M. St. Michel might have some objections to the change," he protested.

"M. St. Michel is also my guest, Mr. Volfeed. And while he has yet to agree to assisting me in this matter I'm sure I will be able to convince him in time."

Creed's voice sobbed, "The song is a short one...," he gasped, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Carvel made a disgusted face. "Babbling again - more of that damned foolishness of his. Nurse, give him another dose. We won't be getting anything like sense out of him but I don't want to have to listen to his garbage any longer." He glanced at Sven. "I really don't know how you put up with that arrant drivel for so long."

As Sven watched, the woman stuck a needle in Creed's left arm and thrust the plunger home. Reaction, a complete collapse into unconsciousness, soon followed.

"I'll just leave you for the moment," Carvel said, checking Creed's pulse and nodding with satisfaction. "Nurse, let me know if there are any problems. I need to do my rounds."

"Yes, Doctor Carvel."

Sven closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, wondering what he could do.

-

Creed listened to the footsteps as they echoed off into the distance. His head hurt from the sleeping gas and what he really wanted to do was go off into lala land and not come back out until he was with his Train. _Unfortunately, I can't get back to my Train unless I do something about it._ The situation wasn't something he felt prepared to handle. He'd lost so much of his old edge. Fighting skills had been kept honed, certainly, but the ability to think clearly and cohesively without releasing his capacity for violence required quiet and calm and time to think out every option.

_Time is something I don't have. Train cares about me but in a choice between Sven and myself, I know Sven would still win._ The knowledge was a burning pain in Creed's heart but it was a state of affairs that he knew he'd earned. _All right. There's no choice, is there? Not if I want to live. And I want to - just not here. _Very cautiously he let his mind fall back onto the old track, used the training Chronos had given him to focus himself. In this state of mind he would be nearly unable to comprehend what he did to others, but he would be able to operate. _Concentrate on the important things. Getting Sven and St. Michel out of here. Without killing anyone. No matter how much I might enjoy it._

At last, mind as clear as he thought it could be, Creed turned his attention on the nurse. Reshaping his left arm into something long, slender and flexible allowed him to pull it free. The woman was sitting and reading a book, confident in the power of her drugs to hold him in a stupor. _Which it might have if she'd stuck that needle in my right arm. Nano-machines won't let them into my bloodstream._ He could feel the liquid, a slowly fading chill, pooled in a hollow inside his arm.

Reminded of the sedative, a small smile curved Creed's lips. Turnabout really was fair play, after all. He shaped his hand into something very sharp and had to force himself not to aim it for the woman's eyes. _Now, now. Nothing fatal, Creed. Train would _not_ approve._ He stabbed sharply, the point driving into the woman's thigh and causing her to shriek and jump upright. Then, a moment later, she slumped to the floor in a heap, as the drug she'd used on him was injected into her.

Working quickly, Creed undid the straps on his body and got to his feet. His hand went automatically to his throat and he nearly panicked when he realized that his choker was gone. Only a vague memory of rough hands pulling it off while he was being tied up, back at the house, relieved him. It would be all right, it had to be. All he had to do was get home.

Forcing himself to stay calm, Creed went to the door to Sven's cell. "Sven? Can you hear me?"

"Creed?" Sven's voice was muffled, but worry and surprise still suffused his tone. "You're awake?"

"Talk later. Stand back." Giving Sven a moment, Creed focused the Imagine Blade and swung it in a perfect arc and slash. A moment later the door fell away, showing Sven pressed up against the far wall. Creed glared at him. "Oh, stop being such a worry wart. I'm in control. Not very good control, but in control."

"What are you doing? Do you realize what a risk you're taking?" Sven's protest made Creed roll his eyes. "Creed, in this state of mind you're a danger to everyone around you!"

-

Sven wondered if he'd gone too far as Creed's expression hardened into exasperation and anger. This was the dangerous Creed, the Creed who'd led the Hoshi. The Creed who would kill you as soon as look at you. Then, very slowly, the white-haired man said between gritted teeth, "Your choice. I either escape with you and St. Michel or I kill myself this minute."

"Wha?" Unable to believe his ears, Sven stepped towards the man, only to stop as Creed raised his right hand so that the Imagine Blade would be pointed straight at his forehead. "I'll finish what Kiel did to me," he growled angrily. "I'll use the Imagine Blade to cut my own head off if I have to. I will _not_ submit to Carvel's treatment."

A sob escaped Creed's throat and Sven realized that his housemate was entirely serious and utterly terrified. "Please, Sven. I'll listen to you. I'll let you tell me what I can do. But we have to get out of here or I really will go mad. Carvel doesn't know what I can do. If he starts in on me again... If I have to go through all that again... I'll kill everyone here and then Train will hate me and I'll have to die anyway."

_Drama aside, he's right about this much. He's about as close as he's ever been to reverting. I don't trust his state of mind but Carvel really does have some unpleasant ideas about how to care for a messed up kid. Electro-shock therapy indeed._ Sven nodded slowly. "All right. But you listen to me, Creed. I'm not Train, but I'm the only one here who can speak for him. Understand?"

A look of relief crossed the pale face. "Yes."

"Then, for the moment, quiet down and let me find St. Michel. We don't need you in this state right now. Don't go into it again unless I tell you." At Creed's worried look Sven shook his head. "Trust me to make the right decisions, Creed."

The dark eyes almost looked glad as they blurred and Creed's expression went quiet and calm, returning to its usual dazed look. _I think he really doesn't enjoy that state anymore than we enjoy him in it,_ Sven thought and decided that he was never, ever, going to complain about Creed's associative speech or childish ways. _Or at least not nearly so much. Poor kid._

-

As Sven checked out the cells connected to the room, Creed sat in the chair vacated by their guard, nudging her snoring form out of the way. "What did you do to her?" Sven asked, glancing at the woman.

"Gave her a dose of her _own_ medicine," Creed sang happily, feeling much better now that he didn't have to be the big mean tough Creed. He'd only done so for a few minutes but he was regretting it. He really didn't like that Creed very much - not anymore. "Nurse go bye, bye now."

Rather to Creed's surprise, Sven laughed instead of looking at him exasperatedly. Usually the nonsense that seemed to stream unbidden from his lips in his current state tended to annoy Sven more than amuse him. At his stare, Sven explained, "I haven't seen that side of you since the church incident. I'd forgotten what a scary creature you were. I much prefer you this way." The man stopped, frowning over at him. "Does it upset you, though? I don't think any of us have ever bothered to ask."

"To thine own self be true," Creed answered, smiling. "Of all the things I miss, I miss my mind the most. But not _that_ much." He trembled and hated the way he felt about that old, bad, Creed. He hadn't realized how terrible that state of mind could feel - as if the entire world was your enemy - adrenaline pouring in a constant and heart rushing stream through the system and all the anger in the world focused through his thoughts. _No wonder I needed Train. He was the only one I could consider an ally._ Even the Hoshi had had to be careful about him, never presenting any threat to his well-being, or Train's, for fear that his instinct for self-preservation would turn him on them.

Creed wished he could express those thoughts to Sven, but the words just wouldn't come out right. Before he could find a way to say what he wanted to say, though, Sven made a satisfied sound. "Creed? Can you use the Imagine Blade without going into that state? I know you manage the nano-machines okay. Be careful, though, he's pretty close to the door. Right about here."

"No problem. I can see what Kotetsu sees in Level 2." Creed got up and walked to the doorway, pushing his weapon up into the form Sven inelegantly described as the Landshark. "He slices, he dices, he makes julienne doors," he said perkily, suiting action to word.

As the door fell to pieces in front of them, Sven nodded approval. "Iron Chef Sakai would be proud," he commented and Creed felt a bright smile of pride curve his lips. "I do wish it didn't have to giggle that way though."

Creed shrugged as Sven went into the room and knelt beside the lawyer. "He's alive, but unconscious."

-

-

Train snarled as he paced back and forth, twisting Creed's collar angrily between his fingers. No sign, no clues. Not even Sephiria's great and wonderful spy organization had managed to figure out that Sven and Creed hadn't left the house willingly. The idiots had become so utterly certain of Creed's inability to be a problem that they'd stopped watching him as closely.

"I really am sorry about this," Ten said softly. "I wish I was here..."

"Shut up," Train growled at him, then sighed. "No. You have to sleep sometime and this was a well-organized raid. Someone who knew what they were doing set it up. Someone who knew Creed was under watch. Someone good enough to get past Sven's security. An expert."

Ten nodded regretfully. "Maybe if I'd offered to stay here while you were gone. But it's been months since Lugado attacked him. We thought it was an isolated incident. My mistake. Do you think this has something to do with the Hoshi?"

"No," Eve said. "The Hoshi have better methods. Shiki could have taken control of Sven. Ekidona could have teleported in and out. It wouldn't have been necessary to use smoke bombs or sleeping gas. I think the only reason it worked was the timing. Even Sven can't be on the ball all the time - and it's hard for us to get work done when one of us has to stay home with Creed while the other two go on a job. That's why I insisted on going on this last case with you, Train. Sven was pretty tired."

That wasn't the only problem, Train knew. When Eve was Creed's babysitter, Chronos practically doubled their security. He refrained from mentioning that fact, as it annoyed Eve almost as much as the fact that they never let her go out on a job alone. Almost as much as the fact that when she and Sven went on jobs together he tended to be overprotective in the extreme. She didn't like Train's style but at least he let her take risks without half an hour of argument. The trouble was that left Sven having to do more jobs alone than either Train or Eve. Never anything that couldn't be done, but it was still a strain.

"None of us thought someone would want to kidnap Creed. Kill him, yes, but not kidnap." Train shook his head. "Whomever it was definitely knew what they were doing. I'm almost betting it was Lugado who got the abductors past our security. He wouldn't be one of the top assassins in the world if he couldn't do something like that."

Considering that, Ten turned to gaze out the window. "In which case Creed is the target." He sighed, "Damn. I wish we hadn't lost that guy. We'll get Creed home... Soon, Train. I promise you."

A voice spoke from the doorway. "Perhaps some assistance might be in order. If you're willing to make a deal?" The three turned to look at the intruder and Train stared in outright shock. "That is if you're willing to trust a member of the Hoshi," the Doctor continued, smiling gently.

-

Eve eyed the man standing there as Ten prepared to act. "Don't waste your time," she said, putting a hand on the Chronos Number's arm. "He's not really there."

Doctor bowed slightly in Eve's direction. "Superb," he said quietly, with a broad smile. "You are truly a tribute to Dr. Tiayu's art. I would presume that you are examining me via infra-red or ultraviolet?"

"The lack of a heart beat helps too," Eve added, nodding. "Though I will admit to having learned the eye trick from Creed. I'd never seen the "Six Million Dollar Man" before he rented it."

Ten winced. "Is this really the time to discuss source material?" he asked. "What are you doing, or not doing, here? Doctor, right?"

The Doctor nodded. "Indeed." He turned his attention on Train. "It may not surprise you to know that we have kept something of an eye on events with Creed."

"Surprise me? No. Confuse me a bit, yes. I figured that you'd thrown your hands up in disgust and moved on." Train leaned against the wall, attention apparently drifting off somewhere. "After he tossed all of you out on your ears."

"To be honest, Shiki would have been just as happy to leave him to his fate," Doctor admitted. "And don't bother looking for the source of the projection, Mr. Train. Unless you've decided you don't want my help after all."

Eve had already figured out that the fly sitting on the wall wasn't quite normal and she rather suspected that Train had as well. Neither Sweeper said anything as Doctor continued. "It took us a few months to make up our minds about the situation. We very nearly pulled him out of the asylum when we realized he was busily pining away. Except he refused Ekidona's help and made it clear that he'd rather die under the circumstances. And once you began helping him - well one of the ways the Hoshi differs from a certain other organization is that quitting is not an automatic death sentence."

Though she longed to comment that it hadn't been a death sentence for Train to leave Chronos, either, Eve knew perfectly well that that was only because Sephiria apparently had something of a soft place in her heart for Train Heartnet. Instead she said, "Then if you've given up on him, why are you bothering to come here now?"

Doctor glanced at her and smiled. "Well, as I've said, Shiki isn't too happy with the situation but he's been outvoted. Even Leon, who was pretty upset at Creed for deserting us, agreed that we should keep an eye on him - just in case he changed his mind. As for why we're involving ourselves. It's one thing to indulge our leader - our _former_ leader, that is - in his wishes regarding Mr. Heartnet. It is entirely a different thing to permit anyone other than Train to harm him. Creed was one of us. He held us together and kept us moving - albeit for reasons other than what we thought they were - and he matters to some of us a lot."

Eve rather suspected that it was Ekidona who stood so firmly on Creed's side. She knew nothing of Shiki or Leon, and this Doctor likely had motives different from those he was admitting to, but Ekidona - by Creed's own account - had cared about him in such a way that he still felt sorry he'd hurt her. "So, what exactly is your bargain, Doctor?"

"We will give you a device capable of tracking nano-machines. Ekidona is waiting to place it even as I speak. In return, Creed gives us a sample of his current colony. About a finger's worth would be quite enough."

"What?" Ten stared blankly at Doctor. "But you're the one who created them. Why would you need a sample?"

Doctor sighed. "Well, simply because his colony is mutating in ways that are quite unexpected. I'd almost think they've learned from the nano-machines in Miss Eve's body if the mutation hadn't started before he joined you..." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Though it occurs to me that you _did_ have a brief meeting prior to that..." He glanced sideways, at someone they couldn't see and shrugged in an embarrassed way. "Well, never mind that. It's absolutely certain that they shouldn't be so malleable. They were created too early in the experiments to reach that point. You took him away before I was able to utilize the research we'd gained from Dr. Tiayu." Eve frowned, wondering if Doctor was right. She _had_ spent a certain amount of time helping Creed by acting as a secondary control until he could control his hand and arm without her. _No. Then he wouldn't have _needed_ help in keeping them under control. _

"Why should Chronos let you have something like that?" Ten demanded, a bit put out. "I don't have a lot of objection to you personally Doctor, but you _are_ the enemy."

Doctor ignored Ten, eyes on Train, who said finally, "Except Chronos isn't in a position to say no. Creed is _my_ responsibility, remember?"

At Ten's startled look, Eve added, "Besides, I don't think that Doctor would ask for them right in front of you if he thought they'd be especially helpful in his experiments. I rather suspect scientific curiosity. Not so?"

"_Quite_ so," Doctor agreed. "I have no doubt his nano-machines would provide invaluable information, but we are already doing quite well with what we have." He smiled. "Besides, Mr. Ten. There's absolutely nothing stopping you from asking Train for another sample and studying it. In fact, if your superiors want to become anywhere near our match they probably will need to do so. Like it or not."

Eve wondered if that was part of the reason Doctor had chosen to make his request known right in front of a Chronos agent. She knew nothing of him, but she had a suspicion that he truly wanted the results of his research to go somewhere. She said nothing, however, deciding that - for the moment - it might be more important to find Creed and Sven. _And why is it that I am so worried about Sven, who can take care of himself?_

Train took a deep breath. "Very well. One ounce. And another for Chronos if they decide they want it."

Doctor bowed slightly. "Understood. The device is on the doorstep right... now." Suddenly he flickered and disappeared.

-

-

Sven crawled through the slime coated tunnel behind Creed. They'd had to cut their way into the sewer with Creed's Blade, replacing the opening behind them with the cut out piece in order to slow pursuit. It meant having to make a slow, careful, passage through dark, stinking, tunnels, all the while dragging St. Michel along, but it was better than trying to fight their way out by more normal exits.

Still, it really was inconvenient that St. Michel had had such a thorough reaction to whatever sedative he'd been given. From the way the man was mumbling, Sven suspected one of the drugs that helped make the mind more susceptible to suggestion. Sooner or later, no matter how trustworthy the lawyer might be, Carvel probably would have managed to work St. Michel into assisting his plans.

Thinking about that reminded Sven. "Creed?" He spoke softly, not wanting his voice to carry.

"Eh?"

"Whatever did you mean about the song being a short one... Back when Carvel was saying he'd get St. Michel's help?" It wasn't a big deal, just a matter of intense curiosity.

"Oh. Carlisle." When Sven went dead silent with confusion, Creed added, "Robespierre? Sea green incorruptible?"

"Ahhh! Now I understand." Sven had heard the term before, but had never known where it came from and he said as much.

A chuckle from the white-haired man echoed softly through the pipe, "Read a book."

"Hmph. I do read. Just not quite so much as you do, obviously. Nor do I have your memory, oh walking quotation farm."

Another chuckle, followed by a moan of sheer disgust came back to Sven. "Crawling, rather," Creed corrected. "Oh god, yuck. This stuff is disgusting. I've been _slimed_!"

Sven laughed under his breath. "Just be glad we've got an exit that doesn't mean fighting. I hope."

"That we have an exit at all is a consummation devoutly to be wished," Creed answered. "And the only Train I want at the end of this tunnel is my Train." He sighed. "No, I guess it's just a light."

Sven realized that they were coming to the end of the passage. _Which is good, I hope. I don't like this place anymore than Creed does. I think my nostrils are permanently stopped up._ Though that last was a blessing. The pipe was part of the sewer system of this place and it stank with the effluvia of rotted food and worse. "Good. That's what we want."

Creed stopped suddenly. "Houston? We have a problem."

"What?"

The soft alto sounded scared. "Watch that first step. It's a doozy."

-

As Creed stared downwards, he noted that the drop wasn't quite as bad as the one he'd left Krantz hanging over, earlier last year. "Deeper than a well and boy is it going to leave a mark if we aren't careful," he added.

"Hold on. Let me look." Sven pushed up beside him. "Oh damn." He looked around at the early morning skies, then back down at the rocks below. At last he looked upwards and back. "Big old building. Institution."

"I could have told you. St. Jude's Hospital for the Insane. I thought you'd realized," Creed said, as the fear rising in him hiked his adrenaline flow up enough for him to think a bit more clearly without having to be forced. He shuddered, looking up at the back of the building. He'd never seen it from this position of course. Had seldom seen the outside since that awful day when Kiel... _No. Mustn't think about it. Must not think about it._ Since the day he'd been hurt and had hurt in turn. He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the moment. "What do we do?" He was thinking more clearly, but he could _not_ plan in this state of mind. He rubbed at his bare neck, aching for his losses. _Train. I want Train._

"I know you do," Sven said gently, squeezing Creed's shoulder and he realized he'd muttered that aloud. As he looked at the older man, hating the way he felt and hating the dependency that made it impossible for him to work out an escape from the situation, Sven smiled comfortingly. "Don't worry. I think we can do it."

"HOW?" Creed gasped, biting at his lip.

Sven grasped Creed's right hand and pointed at his nails. "As I recall, your nano-machines are replacing these, right? As the skin cells die off, more of you is becoming nano-machine. Can you make claws strong enough to support your weight and one more person's? Think Wolverine. Or Lady Deathstrike."

It took Creed over a minute to work the idea out in his head. At last he nodded. "Yes. Head shoulders knees and toes... I mean... I'll need my toes too. Sorry."

"I said I preferred this to the Scary Creed," Sven reminded him, though his expression looked mildly exasperated. "I still do. Okay. Take off your shoes and see about getting attached to the wall. I'll hand St. Michel to you. Work your way down, leave St. Michel there then come and get me."

Creed might have objected to having every step spelled out to him, but he recognized the need. In his current state of mind he needed to have a very specific course of action. _And God help us if something goes wrong._

-

Sven watched Creed slowly working his way down the cliff side, St. Michel's arms wrapped around his neck and held there by means of his own coat. _I know you'll be careful, Creed. But dear God this isn't something I'd want to do if I had a choice._ Still, Creed was the only one with the ability to climb such a sheer surface.

At last, far below - or so it seemed to Sven - Creed paused and lay St. Michel safely on some rocks near to the edge of the swiftly running stream that ran past the cliff side. Then he started up again, moving faster than he had going down, lengthened fingernails and toenails flashing in the brightening sunlight.

_I hope he hurries. I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm getting wetter..._ The thought made Sven stop and glance down at the pipe. _Uh oh._ "Creed. Hurry. Someone's turned on the water!"

"Feeling flushed?" Creed asked, then looked embarrassed as he realized what he'd said. "Sorry."

"Never mind the bad puns, kid! The water level's rising and I'm going to be worse than flushed if you don't get here fast." Sven risked a look backwards and realized that the flow was increasing. "Oh shit. You're not going to make it!" He glanced at the cliff, searching for handholds and thought he might manage to cling on if he hurried.

The sound of Creed rushing up the cliff, gasping for air, accompanied Sven's wild swing out over the edge of the pipe and grasp for the rocks nearby. _Shit. Smaller handhold than I hoped. This is _not_ the way I want to go!_

"SVEN!" Creed's panicked voice came from about ten feet away and below and Sven glanced down at him, realizing his companion's danger. "GET BACK! THAT'S WHERE THE WATER..." Sven's words cut off as a stream of water poured out of the hole, a fast and strong flow that spilled rapidly down the cliff side to strike Creed across the back and shoulders.

Sven watched the man's struggle to hang on and fought to find footholds so he could - somehow - make his way over to help. _He can't do it. There's no way!_ He was sure Creed was going to fall.

Hand over hand, Sven struggled towards Creed, gripping for a purchase and nearly failing. At last he managed to get close and he reached out, intending to grab Creed by the arm and pull at least one hand out from the raging torrent that was enveloping him. _The bastards must have figured out where we were and decided to flush the system. That's far more water than they'd be sending through the sewers at one shot._ The thought was cut short as he felt the rock under his other hand begin to give way. _Oh. Shit._

As he started to fall he felt something grab him by the wrist, felt pain in his arm as long, sharp, fingernails pricked him, only to disappear as their owner realized what he was doing. For a moment he thought he was saved, but the weight of his body, along with the weight of the water pouring down on Creed combined to send them both sliding down in a barely controlled slide.

-

Creed closed his eyes and let his instincts do what came naturally. His body wanted to live. _He_ wanted to live. _I _will_ see Train again and I _will_ bring Sven back alive with to him._ He couldn't have borne the look on Train's face if he allowed his beloved's partner to die.

Rocks pounded against his body as the two tumbled down, his clawed hand and feet doing their best to slow the fall enough to keep them alive, if not entirely uninjured. He only wished Sven wasn't so damned heavy. _My own fault. I keep testing that torte on him._ It was too bad they shared a fondness for chocolate. He wanted Sven to like him and indulging the blonde's tastes was part of it.

_And this is a really stupid thing to be thinking about while sliding down a cliff face,_ Creed thought. _Is there a bottom? Of course there is. Oops, I think we just passed St. Michel... Okay, not much further._

The two men splashed into the water below but Creed grabbed hold of a rock and pulled himself up onto it, still clutching Sven in one hand. For several minutes they just stared at each other. Then, as reaction set in, they both began to laugh hysterically.

It was, naturally, Sven who recovered before Creed could. At last, however, Creed managed to work himself to a semblance of calm and look around. "Wow. That was a buggy ride."

"Tell me about it..." As Creed opened his mouth to comply, Sven bopped him lightly on the top of his head. "I didn't mean that literally." He started to move and turned pale, looking down at his legs. "Oh shit."

"What? What is it?"

"My right leg is broken and I think... yeah... I've sprained my left ankle." Sven looked deeply chagrined. "Crap. This is _not_ good."

Creed couldn't help but mutter, "Somebody shoot me."

"I left my gun at home. And _I'm _the one with the broken leg, Creed." Sven's sigh was sharp and accompanied by a moan of pain. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

Looking around, Creed frowned, hand rubbing at his throat again. "We have to get under cover. Before they send someone after us." He was very glad of the fear and excitement of the last few minutes. He wasn't thinking with perfect clarity but he was able to make some sensible decisions. "I'll get St. Michel over to the trees, then you. I can make you crutches. You'll have to walk on the sprained ankle."

"_Oooouch._"

"Grin and bear it, Sven. Unless you want to wait down here for our friends to find us."

-

-

Lugado ignored the mutters from his employer as he gazed out the window at the two figures making their way into the trees. _He rises in my estimation every time. Though I still would give much to know more about that Imagine Blade of his._ He especially would have liked to see what Creed Diskence had done to get himself and two other men, one unconscious, down the side of that steep cliff alive.

_It's one thing to make that kind of descent alone. Quite another to attempt it with two people. Volfeed may have been helping, of course, but he's obviously injured now._ Beside him, Carvel demanded, "Are you planning on doing anything to get them back? I can _not_ afford to let them go now. Especially not the boy." There was fear in the man's eyes, as if he expected some horrible retribution from the pale-haired lunatic.

Shrugging, Lugado nodded. "I'm on my way." He headed towards the doorway, only to stop when the doctor asked if he needed help. Turning, he looked at the man silently and coldly. "To stop one man? It was one thing to expect me to permit assistants in capturing them - that aspect of the job was simply to deal with Volfeed's security measures. It is quite another to say that I cannot handle Creed Diskence."

"I only say that because you failed to capture him before."

Lugado's glare made Carvel quail. "So you have already said. I admit, I underestimated the man. I will not do so again. He is more skilled than his behavior suggests." He didn't add that Diskence obviously had an ability beyond that of normal men - he'd been careful not to mention that before, for fear of being laughed at and accused of trying to hide his failure behind a wild story.

_Whatever the skill is, though, I think it has to do with how they broke out. Those doors were not simply smashed in and the entrance they made to the sewer was cut open._ He had investigated Creed more carefully, looked into his background. That had been when he'd heard the rumors of a powerful weapon called the Imagine Blade. _Though how he kept it hidden when we searched him entirely is a worrisome question._

Continuing out the door, Lugado said, "I'll handle the matter or die trying."

-

-

Train looked at the device connected to the computer and shook his head. "Okay. So that's you," he pointed at one bright spot on the monitor, "Probably me, too. Over there has to be Creed. Then where are they?"

Eve pointed at a string of numbers beneath the screen. "Looks like they're in France, if the GPS reading is correct."

"France? Why the hell would they be in France?" A sudden thought occurred to him. Surely their trust in St. Michel wasn't misplaced. What if he had something to do with this?

When Train expressed his worry, however, Eve shook her head. "If it were St. Michel he would have Creed killed, not kidnapped. Creed's will leaves most of his holdings to St. Michel, with a trust fund for you - one that doesn't nearly cut into what's left."

Train nodded. It had been at his insistence that the will had been made that way. He didn't need all that money or the headaches associated with handling it or the rest of what Creed owned. As Creed's nearest living relative, and a man who obviously gave a damn for the businesses that their family had built, St. Michel had seemed the right choice. _Hell. His father probably should have ignored the fact that he was a bastard and given it all to him anyway_. "You're probably right. "Okay. So they're in France. Grab the laptop and this... thing... of Doctor's and come on. Ten? You going to tag along?"

"Damn right I am. I'm getting rather fond of that white crested loon of yours," Ten said. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"Right. Call the airline then and get us three tickets to whatever airport's nearest that dot, Eve. We're on our way." Train grabbed his coat and headed for the door, pausing only long enough to grab Creed's choker, shoving it into his pocket. _I'm coming for you. For both of you, Sven. Creed. And God help anyone who gets in my way. _

To Be Continued


	38. Escape From Which Mountain

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

ESCAPE FROM WHICH MOUNTAIN?

_May 25, 2004 _  
Creed struggled to keep St. Michel's arm over his shoulder while Sven limped his agonized way along behind him. This was agonizingly slow. His uncle was no lightweight and with Sven so badly crippled by the fall, the certainty that someone was going to catch up with them was growing.

"Gotta stop. Sorry."

Glancing at Sven, Creed felt despair wash over him. "Sven..."

"I _know_," the blonde muttered. "I know. But I can't help it. I'm barely managing to stay on my feet. If you'd just be convinced to leave us."

"To Carvel's tender mercies? I think not." Creed shook his head, "We hang together or we will surely hang separately."

St. Michel muttered, "Benjamin Franklin..." and for a moment Creed had hopes that he was waking up. No such luck. The man was so far out of it that though his eyes would open and he would actually look at things, he tended to fall into a stupor as soon as he was left alone. _And I thought _I_ had problems,_ Creed thought.

Leaning on a tree because - as he'd said at their last rest - he wouldn't get back up if he sat down, Sven shook his head. "Not if you find the police and tell them."

Creed glanced down at himself. "Been there. Tried that. Got the uniform." The slime and dirt ground into his hospital uniform was bad enough. The fact that the outfit was only worn by patients at St. Jude's was far, far worse. "A tale of sound and fury," he whispered.

"Told by an idiot... signifying nothing. Damn. You're right. And even if you change clothing, it's almost certain Carvel's passed the word to the authorities. He can't afford to have us escape."

"You're quite right," a new voice said as a dark clad figure stepped out from among the trees. "How nice to meet again, Diskence. Shall we resume where we left off?"

Lugado.

-

Staring at the dark haired man, Sven realized that they were in a lot of trouble. "Creed," he said softly. "It may not be possible to escape this without hurting him... or killing him." He didn't like opening that can of worms, but he was damned if he could see another option. Lugado wasn't the kind of man you could fool twice and Creed was at about the end of his rope. To expect him to fight without using all of his skill, without returning to his old self, was probably impossible. _And if Lugado takes Creed back he'll kill himself. It's the only path he has left to him._

To Sven's surprise, Creed shook his head. "I won't," he said. "I do that, I might as well kill myself now." He gave Sven an exhausted and haunted look. "Train won't forgive me."

Sven wanted to say that Train would forgive a death in self-defense, but he dared not. On one hand was the fact that Train certainly _would_ understand it if Creed accidentally killed Lugado. On the other hand, Creed might not be able to distinguish real self-defense from what his imagination created. He shuddered at the thought of releasing that on the world. "You're right," he said finally. "Even if he forgave this one, there'd be others. You can't handle the responsibility."

Creed said, softly, "If I can't beat him without killing him... If I have to die... Will you please tell Train..."

"I will." He turned his head, knowing he was condemning Creed to death and saw something that gave him hope. St. Michel's eyes were open.

-

Lugado stared at the man standing to face him. "I'm not going to kill you. Carvel wants you alive."

"That's fine," Diskence agreed genially. "I don't intend to let you take me alive. And I can't kill you. So either get out of our way and let us go, or fight. " He lowered his left hand and to Lugado's amazement the color of the flesh shifted to metallic, even as the shape became something long and slender, like a sword but with no edge. Lugado frowned, whispering, "Imagine Blade."

"No," Diskence disagreed softly. "This is something different. I don't have the mental capacity to fight with the Imagine Blade without killing you right now. I'm barely managing this much, so you're probably going to win. Not that it'll do you any good. If you win, I'll kill myself."

Stunned at the utter seriousness in the man's voice, Lugado hesitated. "Not if I keep you from it," he growled, leaping into the attack.

Somersaulting and rolling, leaping and dodging, the two men spent the first several minutes testing each other's defenses. On one hand this fight was a lot easier for Lugado's state of mind, for Diskence seemed to be strangely calm, as if the certainty of dying had emptied his thoughts of everything except keeping Lugado from doing what he'd promised. On the other hand, that same calm meant that Diskence took blows that ought to have injured him terribly - that Lugado was _sure_ had scored - without flinching. _He's almost welcoming them._

Lugado wasn't sure if this behavior was more disturbing than the just plain weird behavior Diskence had exhibited during their last fight but he considered it damned close. "Why?" he demanded, leaping backwards as Diskence performed an exquisite strike with his shape-shifted arm, the blow nearly breaking Lugado's arm. "Why so careful? Why not try to kill me? Why do you want to die?"

"I don't," Diskence answered, rolling out of the way of Lugado's knife blow and blocking the blade with his arm. "But I won't let Carvel have me again. I don't remember much of what he did the last time I was here but I remember enough. I won't go back to it."

"Then kill me. Stop playing this game of charades. You're barely a challenge this way." He wondered how the man could take so many hits and still stay standing, but he knew that sooner or later he was going to score.

"Sorry to be such a disappointment," Diskence replied, smiling sweetly. "But I'm not fighting to please you. I'm fighting because you're not giving me a choice."

Angrily, Lugado pushed himself into overdrive. _He's going to kill himself anyway. If I end up killing him trying to take him in it isn't going to matter. Besides, maybe if I make the threat more real to him he'll put more real effort into this._

-

Creed knew he had no chance. Lugado had the speed and skill in this fight, where Creed was operating on a slowly fading adrenaline high. There was only so long that state of mind could last, now that he'd set aside his training, and he was losing it rapidly. He was starting to slow down and every effort to force himself into overdrive was failing. He was missing perfectly obvious strikes because his mind insisted on pausing to take in the sights. _That squirrel really isn't all that interesting, Creed. PLEASE stay with the fight,_ he thought at himself angrily, even as he turned to watch the animal leap from one tree to another. Doing so had the inevitable result of allowing Lugado a chance to slam him a good one, sending him rolling off into the bushes.

Knowing perfectly well that all he really had to do was make himself think like the old Creed didn't help. He knew too well what that meant, even understood in a very basic sense why Sven - after his initial protest - hadn't encouraged it. Why Sven had accepted that Creed was likely going to die. _Train. Oh God, Train. I wish you were here. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop him without killing him._ He never felt so torn. Life was sweet now, sweeter than it had ever been, but to cling to it at the expense of what made it so sweet was stupidity. _I won't break your trust,_ he wailed in his thoughts.

Apparently his cry was spoken as well, for Lugado paused, staring at him with that peculiar expression. "Whose trust? And why the hell do you keep getting distracted?" the man demanded and Creed shook his head, unable to answer anymore. He was losing mental ground faster now, beginning to drift off more often.

Lugado moved, struck Creed down with a sharp blow and knelt on his stomach. Ignoring the pain was easier than trying to escape it and Creed simply let his head fall back, meeting Sven's eye with his own and managing a faint smile as he whispered "I'm sorry." Then he closed his eyes and prepared to stop his heart.

Before he could, however, there was a sound of something striking something else, hard, and as his eyes flashed open he saw the arc of St. Michel's swing, a thick branch in his hands having just knocked Lugado from his perch. "Pick on someone your own size, you bastard!"

-

Sven took a deep breath, still a bit stunned over what had just happened. He'd not been sure that St. Michel had awakened enough to really understand what was going on around him. Was even less sure that the lawyer - though fairly fit for an older man - would be able to do anything to help. Still, when the man had slowly turned his head to look at Sven, had mouthed the words, "Can Creed beat him?" Sven had slowly shaken his head.

St. Michel's eyes had shown determination then, and he had watched the fight, listened to the two men as they struggled against each other and had seen how Creed had faded from the highly trained fighter to bewildered and wailing child in a few short minutes. As Lugado concentrated on the battle, St. Michel had searched around him and had found that thick stick of wood, choosing his moment carefully and striking fast and hard.

Lugado was too skilled a fighter to be more than mildly stunned by the blow, but that gave St. Michel long enough to get several more good hard blows in before the assassin could roll to safety and come to his feet.

Leaning down and pulling Creed to his feet, the older man growled, "You have to stay with us a bit longer, boy. I can't do more than distract him for you." As Creed's dark, confused, eyes stared at him, St. Michel leapt into the attack.

_Damn. It's help, but too damned late. Creed can't possibly focus fast enough to be of use, and St. Michel's not going to be able to hold up for long._ Already the man was bleeding from several long cuts. Sven gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet and to Creed's side. Sprained ankle, broken leg or not, he was going to have to help.

"Listen to me," he whispered into the dazed man's ear. "I want you to form the Imagine Blade... I mean Sakabatou-ken," he corrected, remembering what Creed had called the version of the blade he'd created that could be used without cutting anything. "You can do it."

Bewilderedly, Creed shook his head. "No... can't..."

"Yes, you can. You're in a practice session with Train. It's Train you're going to be hitting at." It was a dirty trick, of course, but he knew Creed was in just susceptible enough a state of mind to believe it. "Now, I'm going to aim you and tell you when to swing. Got it?"

Creed's eyes were lighting up at the name of his love. "Train?"

"That's right. He wants to see if you can touch him. You just have to hit as hard as you can. Train can dodge, remember?"

A slow, trusting, nod followed the question and Sven really felt like a first-class heel. _No choice. Gotta push the right buttons if we're going to stop this guy._ He reached up and pulled the patch off his right eye, freeing up his special ability. For a moment he swayed, disoriented by the future-vision that his long dead partner's eye had granted him. Then, he grabbed Creed's sword arm, spinning the man around sideways and aiming him for the right spot. "NOW! Fifteen feet long and swing HARD!"

-

The sound of something snapping filled the air and for a moment Lugado almost believed that it was just the club the Frenchman had aimed at him breaking. Then the pain hit and he found himself collapsing on a broken leg. Sven's voice yelled, "Again. Left and forward. NOW!" Another blow. Then another, each one guided by Sven's voice, each one breaking bones. Lugado was good, could stand a hell of a lot of pain but there was only so much he could take. He collapsed into a heap.

Staring at Creed, he saw Sven's arms around the thin man, the Sweeper's hands clutching Creed's right hand. The eye that had been covered with the patch was revealed and its clear shining color seemed to gleam with a piercing light. For a brief moment Lugado thought he saw something flicker in the air, a shift of light and shadow that almost looked like a sword in Creed's hands. Then it was gone.

"Train? Train! I'm sorry!" Creed's stunned voice broke the silence and he broke free to run towards Lugado, falling on his knees beside the assassin. "You didn't dodge... Why didn't you _dodge_?"

Lugado couldn't understand why his enemy was calling him Train. He most especially couldn't understand why tears were pouring down the thin man's face. "What the hell..."

Slowly the dark eyes seemed to focus, seemed to realize that he wasn't looking at the Black Cat and the bewildered expression on his face became deeper. "You're not Train." A panicked tone filled Creed's voice. "Where's Train? What happened to Train? I WANT TRAIN!"

"Creed!" Sven's voice interrupted the madman's diatribe and the sweeper slowly, agonizingly, made his way over. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I had to do it."

"What the hell did you do?" Lugado demanded, struggling to get some strength back, struggling to find some way to finish his task. It was, he began to realize, hopeless. "DAMNIT!"

"You're the one who insisted," Sven pointed out, reaching Creed. "Creed, I made you think he was Train so you wouldn't kill him. I'm sorry. I know you're upset."

Creed's eyes met Sven's without comprehension for a long moment. Then, as understanding formed in those dark eyes, they rolled up in his head and he dropped, face forward, onto the ground.

-

"Creed? Wake up."

When Creed opened his eyes, it was to find himself laying wrapped in Sven's jacket. He felt bewildered and confused, but better than he had felt for some hours, telling him he'd had at least a couple hours of sleep. Sven's voice drew his attention. "Creed? We can't afford to let you rest any longer. St. Michel's hurt pretty badly. We need to get him to help."

Slowly Creed sat up. "Hover through the fog and filthy air," he grumbled, rubbing at his neck disconsolately.

"Great. Another quotation, and me without Google." A gentle hand pulled Creed's away from his throat. "Don't do that. You'll get the collar back. It's going to be all right."

St. Michel's voice said, tiredly, "Macbeth. Fair is foul and foul is fair."

Creed looked at his uncle and nodded approvingly while Sven muttered, "It must run in the family."

"I recall a very young boy reading Shakespeare rather voraciously," St. Michel murmured. "Which he would then disgorge verbatim. It annoyed your mother no end, Gil... I mean Creed."

A small smile managed to find its way to Creed's lips, especially when Sven muttered, "Why am I not surprised? I think the kid has some sort of irritation aura." The blonde sighed. "Never mind that. We really do have to get moving. Carvel will realize something's wrong when Lugado doesn't return. Or Lugado will figure out a way to get back up to the hospital despite all the broken bones. We don't have any spare time."

Creed got to his feet. "I'll pick that bone with you later," he promised Sven. "That was still a dirty trick." He moved over to where his uncle was lying. "How bad?"

"I could quote Romeo and Juliet, but I don't think it's going to kill me," St. Michel answered, wincing. "He got a lot of good sized cuts in, but no deep wounds. Worst of it is the blood loss. Frankly, I was glad of the rest."

"Sven? What should we do?" Creed wasn't quite to full bewildered confusion now, but he knew he couldn't depend on his instincts in these circumstances.

"We find someone with a car and get your uncle to the hospital. Then we call Train and have someone pick us up." Sven worked himself up onto his crutches. "Better hurry, Creed. It's going to be dark soon and we don't want to be traveling at night."

-

-

"They're moving."

"Huh?" Train glanced at the device in Eve's hand while Ten finished negotiations for the car rental. "How do you know? I don't see any change." The only dots on the screen that had changed positions from that morning until now were the ones that had to be his and Eve's. _We're going to have to find a way to block that. I don't like that we can be traced by our nano-machines so easily. There has to be a way, Doctor wouldn't give this thing to us, otherwise_. He raised a brow at Eve, waiting for her explanation.

"The numbers shifted. Only a bit, but they've stayed steady for most of the morning. I'd say they've moved at least two to three miles away from where they were." Eve looked thoughtful. "I wonder... could they have escaped?"

"It's possible," Ten said. "With Creed and Sven, anything may be possible. If Train were with them I'd be certain of it, of course, but I have as much faith in Sven's smarts as I do in Train's luck."

"Still. At the rate they're moving, they might get caught again," Train said sourly. "Let's go."

To Be Continued...


	39. The Great Race

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE GREAT RACE

_May 26, 2004 _

"Houston, we've got yet another problem." Creed's voice was tense as it whispered in the darkness. Nearby, firelight gleamed out of the windows of a small farmhouse.

"Why? Didn't you try and get the farmer's help?" Sven asked, irritated. He was hurting pretty badly now and wanted - terribly - just to get some rest.

Creed sighed. "No. I got close enough to hear their radio. There's an all points bulletin out for us. If the police catch up to us, they'll just take us straight back to Carvel. Just like they used to take me." He indicated his outfit. "Remember? I'm a homicidal maniac with a history of violence who has taken his family lawyer hostage with the help of another mad man recently admitted to St. Jude's." Though he spoke cheerfully, he still sounded put out as he pointed at Sven. "That would be you."

Glancing at the unconscious man behind him, Sven sighed. "We have to get him help. If I turn myself in, do you think you could make it on your own?" At Creed's panicked look, Sven shook his head. "Forget I said that. We'll have to leave him here and hope they take him to a hospital. Then head on."

A thoughtful look crossed Creed's face. "Or we drop him off at a hospital ourselves."

"How? Exactly how do you think we're going to do that?"

"There's a car in the garage. We wait until they're asleep inside, cut the phone lines and the power so the farmer can't contact anyone easily, then steal it."

"Shyeah, right. And who do you think is going to drive. St. Michel? Me?" The lawyer was unconscious and Sven knew he had no chance of driving a car with his legs injured.

"I am." Creed said quietly.

The pale haired man flinched as Sven grabbed him by the collar and whispered furiously, "Have you gone completely out of your tiny mind?"

"Do you want to stay here and wait for Carvel or the police? Do you want to risk it?" Sven's expression went sour as he realized the sheer danger of staying where they were. Creed continued, "I know I don't know how to drive. I know I've never been behind a wheel. I know I'm going to have a lot of trouble. But what else can we do?"

"We're going to die, I know we are." Sven took a deep breath. "Okay. Start with knocking out the phone lines. Then we'll get to the car and see if it's an automatic. That's the only way I'm going along with this fool venture." There was no way he'd be able to teach Creed how to handle a stick shift.

* * *

Slowly Creed pushed the car out onto the road, following Sven's directions. High above him, moonlight streamed. Not as bright as it would be completely full, the gibbous moon still shone bright enough to let him get the car as far from the farmhouse as possible before Sven jumpstarted the engine.

As the car revved into life, Creed helped Sven to move to the seat beside him. "Okay, I'm as ready as I'm going to be." He scratched at his chest, irritated by the harsh fabric of the shirt he'd stolen off the clothes line. An ugly utilitarian shirt, certainly, but - more importantly - an ugly utilitarian shirt that did _not_ scream escapee from an insane asylum. With his hair slicked back down Creed no longer looked quite so pathetically crazed as he had. _Though I still feel it. Am I really going to go through with this? Do I have a choice? _

"Put your foot on the brake. Yes, that pedal. Hold it tight. Now, take the gear lever and pull it towards you a bit. See the needle there?" Sven's finger touched a spot in front of Creed where a group of letters had been placed. "Move the gear lever and you'll see that needle move. Okay. Stop it there. Good. Release the brake and move your foot to the gas pedal."

Creed took a very deep breath, terror beginning to rise in him. At least the fear was helping him stay focused, but he wondered how long he could keep from overloading and ending up fainting from exhaustion. The human body wasn't designed to take this much adrenaline and though his body was no longer nearly as human as it used to be, the majority of it was, with all the associated weaknesses.

The car jerked, started moving forward and he gulped back the sob of terror. He couldn't let Sven realize how scared he was. He simply _couldn't_.

* * *

"Stay in your lane!"

"I'm trying! This thing steers like a boat."

"You've never driven a boat either. What's your basis for comparison?" Sven grasped the door grip tightly and wished there was a Jesus bar in front of him. Creed was trying, God help them all, but he was erratic, distractible and tended to forget which side of the road to be on. _Thank God it's just coming on towards morning. Almost no one's on the road yet. Yet._ There was a car ahead of them, a similar one to their own, but a bit older and slower and Sven was sort of glad that its sloth forced Creed to keep the speed down.

A sight through the window made him pause in his worries over Creed's driving. Somewhere above them was a helicopter. _It may be just paranoia, but..._ "Creed? You see that turn up there? I want you to take it."

"But... the hospital is in the other direction," Creed protested. "Why did we bother asking at that gas station if we're going to go our own sweet way?"

"Yes, it is, but we may be getting followed. They're going to know some of us are hurt. That we're likely to need medical assistance. So we go the other way and hope that we're misdirecting them. Given that that helicopter is really looking for us."

A sigh escaped Creed's lips. He was, Sven knew, already put out. Sven had been scolding him non-stop the whole way. The first few hours of driving had been awful. Creed had swerved, nearly gone off the road far too many times for Sven's comfort and he had kept up a running stream of reminders, much to Creed's annoyance. _Still. Anything to keep him alert. He can't afford to stop paying attention._

The turn was, amazingly, done fairly well and was only marred by the fact that Creed nearly hit the sign post as he straightened the car. _I hope they didn't see that. Or if they did, they put it down to normal bad driving, rather than a lunatic behind the wheel._

"SHIT!"

The car swerved, then swerved back again and back a third time before straightening out. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Hedgehog. I killed a hedgehog! Oh God... I killed a... It just ran out in front me..." Creed wailed the next words. "Train is going to kill me!"

"Train is _not_ going to kill you, silly. Hedgehogs get hit all the time. Drive a bit slower and calm down. You don't want to draw any more attention, do you?"

¤

Creed forced down the panic induced by the dead hedgehog and held onto the wheel tightly. "Where is it?"

"What? Oh, the helicopter? Hovering... Ahhh, it went the other way. Following the other car. Excellent. Stay on this road for a while." Sven glanced over his shoulder at the back seat and Creed would have followed suit, except Sven growled, "Keep your eyes on the road, damnit!"

"But..."

"I mean it. And stay in your lane... That car coming at us has every right to be there."

Creed was already moving the wheel but he couldn't help but say, "Are you absolutely certain? Maybe I should honk my horn?"

A low growl was Sven's only response, but Creed ignored that in favor asking, "How is he?"

"Still breathing. Looks a bit pale but I think he'll be okay." _I hope. The last thing we need is to lose the one man who can keep Creed's billions from falling apart in a confused mess. Not to mention I really like the man. He's got guts._

Creed started to swerve again, then held steady as the car thumped over something. "Another hedgehog," he gasped. "What is this? A convention? I think I've hit three of the little buggers!"

"Drive a bit slower. It's almost time to turn around and go back, anyway."

"How? Where?" Creed asked, panicking again. There were no side roads.

"You turn," Sven said and as Creed blinked at him, unable to understand, yelled, "ROAD. EYES ON THE ROAD! KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!"

"But... What do you mean..." Creed snapped his eyes forward. "I know I turn. I just don't know how... And why were you speaking English all of a sudden?"

"No. U as in the letter of the alphabet. Slow down to a crawl and very carefully turn the wheel towards the left side of the road - that's it - now start turning in the other direction..."

"What? You just said..."

"Do it, Creed. You needed to get a bit of clearance to make the rest of the turn, that's all." Sven was obviously trying hard to be patient but it was not without some effort. "All right, that's good. Doing good, keep turning the wheel right and moving - slowly - until the car has gone a full 180 degrees." Sven glanced out the window. "This is the safest place to do it. Fields on both sides and no ditch. Don't stop. Just keep turning until the car's going the other way."

Creed whimpered as did as he was ordered, trembling with fear that he'd do it wrong and end up stuck somehow. Rather to his complete surprise, though, somehow the car made it, though there was an anxious moment when the passenger side tires dipped down unexpectedly over the edge of the roadway. At last, though, the car was turned and he was - once more - on pavement. He tried to ignore the splattered messes of hedgehog that they passed as he returned to their old route.

* * *

"The hell?"

"Eve, you've been around Sven and me too long," Train muttered. "You really shouldn't talk that way." He glanced over at the girl and Ten leaned forward from the back seat to look at the device in her hands.

"I told you they've been moving a bit faster? Well they changed directions and now they've changed back again."

"They're evading someone," Ten said thoughtfully. "But we're close. They have to be in a car to be moving as fast as they seem to be. Train, have you seen any cars on the road yet?"

"Just one old lump that was barely moving. We passed it about a minute ago." Train frowned. There'd been a helicopter too, though it had gone off in another direction. "I bet they think someone's searching for them from the air. I think you're right. That means they may be showing up any minute..."

The car that passed them was shifting ever so slightly in its lane, as if its driver was having trouble keeping it on the road. _Which,_ Train thought, spotting a flash of pale hair through the window, _is probably completely accurate. Who the hell was crazy enough to let him drive?_ He hoped that didn't mean that Sven was badly hurt.

"That was them!" Eve said sharply, even as Train spun the car around. Rather to his surprise, the other car sped up, as if their action had panicked the driver. "Train!"

"He thinks we're the ones who kidnapped them," Train gasped. He slowed down, flashing the lights, but Creed was obviously too scared to pay attention.

"Train. Fire your gun." Ten's order caused Train to glance back at the Chronos Number with a frown. "I mean it. Fire it past them. Creed will know Hades. It's the one thing that'd get his attention."

With a sigh, Train leaned out the window, pulling out his faithful weapon and fired.

* * *

"TRAIN! IT'S TRAIN!" Creed's voice had hit a hysterical note far beyond anything that Sven had thought possible. "He's _found_ us!"

Sven held on tightly as the car came to a screeching halt in the road. He'd recognized that shot as well. "Turn it off. TURN IT OFF!" he yelled, pulling himself upright and groaning at the pain in his broken legs. "DAMN IT CREED..." He broke off, staring.

Creed was sitting stock still, foot on the brake and hands clutching the wheel so tightly that the knuckles stood out, bone white even against the pallor of his skin. The muscles of the lunatic's arms were tight, solid masses of cable beneath the skin. That wasn't what made Sven stop shouting though. Up until now he hadn't really looked at Creed's face, having been too busy watching the road and everything else.

Black eyes were staring blank and steady, so wide that the whites were visible around them. Creed's expression was one of complete and utter terror and shock and his lips were moving, whispered words just barely audible. "...we made it we made it we made it oh dear god we made it I did it I don't believe I did it..."

_He was terrified,_ Sven realized. _He's been terrified this whole time._ It had not occurred to him that Creed might not be as optimistic as he'd sounded about driving. That Creed might know the risk he was taking getting behind a wheel. _He's crazy,_ Sven reminded himself. _He is _not_ stupid._ Realizing that most of Creed's responses and pissy little comments on the way had been a desperate effort to cover his terror over being forced to do something he knew he wasn't competent - or even safe - to do, Sven pulled himself over, despite the pain, and turned the key in the ignition to off.

Creed gasped, turning those dark eyes onto Sven and for a moment the man saw the absolute terror and anger and hatred all tangled up in one solid knot inside Creed's thoughts. Then it disappeared, replaced with a stunned expression that was quickly followed by a storm of tears.

"Creed... It's okay. We're safe..." Sven touched the man's shoulder, felt the tension underneath the rough fabric.

"I'm... going... to be sick..." Creed gasped, and suddenly turned, pushing the door open and falling out of the car. A moment later he was retching, the sound of his illness not doing much for Sven's unsettled stomach.

* * *

The sour taste of his stomach contents was almost all Creed could think about right then. That and the shame of having broken down in front of Sven. Slowly, though, he managed to pull himself upright, stomach muscles aching, throat and nostrils raw from the vomit. He looked around, found Sven looking at him with a strangely kind expression that Creed would have liked to wipe right off the blonde's face. At the same time, though, he felt oddly relieved by it. Sven hadn't really been mad at him. Sven had actually understood.

Before he could say anything, however, three figures were running towards them from the other car. Eve ran to Sven first, checking him with worried hands, while Train stopped and knelt beside Creed. At the same time Ten was leaning into the back seat, examining St. Michel.

"I did it," Creed whispered. "I did it... I drove... We got away... and I did it..."

Train put a hand under his arm, helping him to his feet and it was a terrible effort not to collapse onto his beloved. "Not bad," he said. "How were the roads?"

"Ran over three hedgehogs," Creed reported. "Nearly ran off the road... oh, I lost count at twenty times. Avoided getting caught though. Helicopter chased us, but we lost him too." He leaned on Train and found himself near tears again.

"For you, that's pretty damn good," Train agreed, helping Creed to his car. Glancing over in Sven's direction, then into the car at the unconscious St. Michel, he apparently understood why Creed had been behind the wheel at all. "Can you wait here while I help get your uncle and Sven moved?"

Creed managed a nod, though something in his expression must have communicated his utter exhaustion and hurt, for Train paused and looked into his eyes, then put a hand on his shoulder. "Creed, you did great. Really great. I'm proud of you." Blinking his eyes, Creed nodded, smiling a bit more happily as he leaned back in his seat. It wasn't what he would have liked, but expecting a kiss remained far more than he ought to hope for, and he knew it. Still, they were safe. Everything was going to be okay. He paused, reached out and grasped Train's arm before the man could leave. "Creed? Problem?"

"I need a noogie."

Train blinked, eyes startled, then grinned as he reached out, wrapped an arm around Creed's neck and rubbed his fist in Creed's hair.

To Be Continued


	40. Intermezzo: Annealment House

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: ANNEALMENT HOUSE

_May 28, 2004 _  
He listened to the tape for what must have been the tenth time, hoping against hope to find something different, something that might show circumstances in a different light. Something that might make what had been done less objectionable, less abhorrent. He failed.

Two adult voices, a man and a woman, discussing a failed procedure, discussing the patient as if he were nothing. Two voices revealing a plan that was more than just wrong, more than just criminal but an ethical nightmare.

Doctor Ivan Jones sighed. He'd been listening to Creed a bit too much. He didn't feel his opinions were exaggerated, but there was a certain amount of over-the-top hyperbole in his mental description of what had been done to the young man. He gazed down at the documents in front of him, page after page of case history. Page after page of the slow and deliberate erosion of a personality.

As a doctor... as a human being... he couldn't help but find what Carvel had allowed to happen to be reprehensible. It was all the worse because - as far as he could tell - there wasn't even medical justification for agreeing to the procedure performed on the young Guilliaume DeVerry. The boy's behavior had been odd, prior to the attempted lobotomy but it hadn't been violent or more than mildly disturbing. He couldn't help suspecting that Carvel had been entirely motivated by money - both the payment for allowing the procedure to be performed at all and the profit Creed's nurse had expected to gain by worming her way into controlling the boy's fortune.

Looking at the documents, listening to the tape, it struck Jones that this was one of those very rare cases where a psychopathy demonstrated such a clear cut cause and effect. _But then, how many case histories are the result of a deliberate attempt to drive a person mad?_ Even now Creed was extremely easy to influence by the right person. Pathetically anxious to please, the young boy he'd been must have seemed a perfect target to his nurse. It was something of a cliché, and certainly an oversimplification, but the boy had wanted to be loved. _And still does._

Picking up the phone, he dialed the number he'd been given. "Mr. Heartnet? Yes, I've read them. Listened to the tape. To say I'm appalled is an understatement."

"The question is, what do we do? Should we tell him, or not? Will it risk sending him back to what he was before?"

It wasn't an easy to answer and Jones said as much. "For what it's worth, though, it seems to cause him more emotional distress that no one believes the lobotomy was done than the lobotomy itself. I would recommend caution. Give him time to assimilate the information and a chance to back off if he needs it. Needless to say, it should be you who tells him."

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious. I'll keep you posted on how he does." Train paused, and in a rare moment of insight added, "How are _you_ doing? This has to be a shock."

Jones' laugh held little humor. "That's putting it mildly. I'll be all right. I wish I could speak my mind to Carvel, but - unfortunately - I doubt it would register." He shrugged to himself. "Don't worry about it. Just take care of Cray. He and I can discuss things more, later... if he wants to."

As Jones hung up the phone he turned back to the papers. They were horrific to read but he needed to know as much as he could about Carvel's methods if he was to help Creed with the memories this was sure to revive. He only hoped he could.


	41. Shadows of a Forgotten Past

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

SHADOWS OF A FORGOTTEN PAST

_June 5, 2004 _  
DeVerry Chateau stood five stories tall, with high towers rising above the roof and carved gargoyles hanging off everything. To Creed, entering what was merely a possession and not a home to him, it was rather overwhelming, especially after the last week's tensions. "Phantom of the Opera or Hunchback," he murmured, staring up at the decorations. "This is a museum."

"It ought to be," St. Michel agreed. Though somewhat recovered from the injuries he'd incurred fighting Lugado off, he was still pale and obviously glad to sit down. "If your grandfather hadn't loved this place so much I would have been tempted to sell it off. Except, of course, he would have been very upset with me. He wanted you to have it."

"I've always wondered," Train said, looking around with wide eyes, "why he didn't just leave it all to you in the first place. Did your being a bastard matter that much to him?"

With a wince, St. Michel shrugged and Creed wondered if the wince was due to the choice of words or to his injuries. "I admit, it bothered me when I was younger. But he was so certain that Guilliaume, I mean, Creed, would be back one day that I hated to try and convince him otherwise. He really wanted the family name to continue."

A small weak chuckle escaped Creed's lips. "And here I am, with my name changed. I hope he didn't roll too far in his grave, but I really couldn't turn myself to face me again." He sighed, sitting down on the couch and made a face at the stiff uncomfortable cushions. . "I am glad you are here to take care of things, Uncle. I never could."

St. Michel looked embarrassed. "When you first appeared I admit you had me worried. To tell the truth, you look so much like my half-brother that I was pretty sure you really _were_ Guilliaume. But I didn't want to accept it. I was sort of hoping you'd run away when Carvel showed up. I knew from what Grandfather said that you'd been terrified of him while you lived at St. Jude's. That's part of the reason he was trying to get you out of there."

Shuddering, Creed nodded. "I don't blame you for not wanting me. Nobody loves me, everybody hates me...," he paused, noting Train's raised brow and stopped the flow of nonsense somehow. "Let's never mind that. You asked us here? Why?"

"As you know, Dr. Carvel has been arrested. His records were confiscated and... well there's some information in them that Train and I discussed and we think you should know."

Creed glanced at Train, who had moved to stand behind him and was putting a hand on his shoulder. On one hand it was a kindly gesture, meant to reassure. On the other, he suspected that it was also intended to keep him from reacting before thinking. He smiled and turned a nervous gaze on his uncle. "Speak, Oh King." Almost automatically his hand went to his collar, restored to its rightful place at last, and a comfort to him, especially now.

With only the slightest wince, St. Michel nodded. "It has to do with what was done to you. And why." Creed took a deep breath and forced himself not to move. _I will _not_ panic,_ he thought as St. Michel continued, "My father's wife, Evianne, was often over at your house when you were small. From what I'm told, you remember her and remember her dying in front of you. She did - as you suspected - have a heart attack. What you may not remember is that you were extremely upset by what happened. Train tells me you at least recall having been angry with her at the time. Your feelings of guilt were natural and probably would have faded in time. Except your nurse, hired after Tante Evianne's death, didn't help them fade. If anything, she used small psychological devices - a word dropped here, a comment there - to encourage your guilt."

Creed shook his head. "Why?"

"Let me get to that slowly. I don't think it would be a good idea to drop the whole thing in your lap immediately." St. Michel looked at Train, who added, "Doctor Jones' suggestion. If you think it's getting too much, we'll hold off on the next part until you can deal with it."

St. Michel took another deep breath as Creed nodded slowly. "Your nurse slowly worked you into a state of constant terrors and panics. You were kept away from school for that reason. My own memory of you is that you tended to hide in corners and read a lot. I think that you got to watch TV too. You started doing your little trick with quotes then."

Creed tightened up on himself, vague memories coming back. "Oh, that bad boy. He's just asking to be locked away." "Naughty little man. Don't you love your nursey? Do you want me to fall down dead?" He whimpered, but forced himself not to speak again, as Train squeezed his shoulder and shook his head for him to stop.

"Should I continue? Or do you want to hold on?"

"Do it. Say it. Just drop the ketchup and be done with it!" Creed gasped as he spoke, trying not to get more upset and suddenly very glad of Train's hands on his shoulders.

"All right. She messed you up as much as she possibly could, then helped your parents find a doctor for you. Various treatments were tried - questionable ones. Even if you really were suffering from the various illnesses diagnosed, they wouldn't have helped you. As it was, you became even more withdrawn and temperamental."

"Yes," Creed agreed in a raw whisper. "I hated everyone. I remember that now."

"Can't say as I blame you, all things considered," Train said in his ear. "Remember, you're not there anymore. It isn't ever going to happen again."

St. Michel nodded, and Creed suddenly realized both men were very angry about what had been done to him. "At last a special treatment was proposed. By this time your parents were desperate. You weren't at all the kind of child that they could show off in public, after all. I'm afraid my sister-in-law was rather concerned over appearances and she was willing to listen to anything in order to have you behave the way she thought the heir to the DeVerry family should behave. She was the one who signed the papers, though knowing my brother I doubt he objected." A wry smile crossed the man's face. "My brother was easily lead, I'm afraid."

Creed made a small choked sound. "The lobotomy. They sent me to be... I'm not mad... About that at least... They really did..." He started to cry and Train's hands squeezed his shoulders again. "I always knew it..."

"Yes. But, as you know, something went wrong mid-way. According to Dr. Carvel's notes, and a tape found with them, you apparently woke up and moved in the middle of the procedure. The man performing the surgery on you panicked and thought you were dead, or so badly injured that you would die soon. He and the nurse talked about it but he accidentally left the tape going. Or perhaps he was trying to ensure that she indicted herself - in case he found himself in court over the matter."

Very slowly Creed looked up, his thoughts spinning. "What do you mean it failed?" he said, mimicking a woman's voice, then alternated it with a man's. "The anesthetic wore off too soon. He moved. He's probably going to die." "You fool. Do you realize how much time, how much effort I put into getting him into your hands? Do you realize that you've ruined everything? Guilliaume DeVerry with only half a brain would have been a perfect pawn - his money, everything, would have been ours. Now that he's dead or dying, everything's ruined!"

"I know! I know. But we have to think of a cover story now. We have to... Wait, someone's there... Guilliaume?"

A soft giggle escaped Creed's lips. "That hurt, Doctor. That really, really hurt. Would you like to know how _much_ it hurt?"

"STOP IT CREED!" Train squeezed his shoulders and shook him so hard that Creed was forced out of the memory. He stared up at his beloved with a devastated expression as he realized he'd shaped his left hand into something resembling an ice pick.

* * *

"Train? Train..." Tears streamed down Creed's face and Train looked at him with a feeling of utter horror and pity, mixed with worry. Was this going to push him back over the edge? Maybe it had been wrong to tell him at all. _He quoted the tape word for word. He remembers everything about what happened. Can he deal? Maybe we should have waited? _

Then the ice pick was gone and the white head was buried against Train's chest. He could feel tears soaking his shirt. "Awww, Creed." Automatically he put a hand on the top of Creed's head, knowing how desperately his friend needed physical contact when he was unhappy. _And this just isn't the time for a noogie._

"Creed? Are you going to be all right?" St. Michel stood up, came over to sit beside Creed and pat him awkwardly on the shoulder. "This is a horrible thing... We shouldn't have told you."

"...no..." Creed whispered. "I have had such nightmares. I'd rather know why. No one ever believed they could be true. Even Doctor Jones didn't believe. They all said I was lying... or just insane..."

Train shook his head. "No. Not lying. Dr. Jones didn't _want_ to believe in them. Didn't want to believe your brain damage was deliberately caused. He's not perfect, Creed. He has blind spots. Believing one of his profession would do such things is something he just didn't want to accept. He had to, after listening to that bastard's tape. You killed them both. It's on the tape too. They're the ones that Carvel was talking about when he said you were a murderer at thirteen. It wasn't good, Creed, but under the circumstances, it was completely understandable."

Creed looked up and Train could see the way his dark eyes filled with relief. "You... don't... blame me?"

"Nope. Not in the slightest. You had just been badly hurt. From what Dr. Jones tells us, you were already experiencing the effects of the brain damage. You heard them. You understood what they'd done to you and why. And so you returned the favor. As I said, not good, but understandable and possibly impossible for you to have done anything else, when there was no one to teach you any better." Train patted Creed's head gently.

"The rest is pretty obvious. What you did to those two got hushed up. So well, in fact, that not even your grandfather found out. Carvel kept it a secret because the procedure was performed in his hospital and with his permission. He'd been promised some of the loot, I suspect. You escaped, ended up with Chronos, then with me. When you started showing signs of having some memories - and he had you watched to find out - he figured he either had to kill you or get you back under his control." He paused. "It may be my fault. I started looking into the matter, trying to find out what really happened."

A small giggle escaped Creed's lips. "I always feel like somebody's watching me," he sang.

"What with Chronos, the Hoshi and Carvel, I'm surprised they didn't bump shoulders more often. 'Course, Shiki's probably using his bugs." Train paused to glance around the room and though he didn't see any insects hanging around, gave the room the finger on general principle. "Carvel had hired Lugado - who's a helluva lot better than your rank and file Chronos agent and who probably spotted them and kept himself scarce as much as possible - especially when Ten was around. We're going to check the house over for his bugs. Shiki's will be more difficult, considering those things are something he creates with his Tao power."

Creed shrugged. "I don't mind his keeping an eye on me. I'm not going back to them." He relaxed, shoulder muscles softening beneath Train's hands. "Thank you, Train. I... needed to know that."

With a nod, Train sat down. "So. Whatcha wanna do now? We got a few days to kill before Sven gets his lazy hiney out of the hospital." He didn't add what would have to happen after that. It was better to let Creed recover before he was told that he might have to face Carvel again.

* * *

It took hours for Creed and Train to make their way around the chateau, partly because of its sheer size and partly because Creed couldn't help but wander aimlessly through the many rooms, staring at his possessions with all the fascination of a tourist permitted to wander through the halls of the Louvre unchaperoned. 

_Which isn't far off base,_ Creed thought, stopping to stare wide-eyed at one of the paintings of his several times great grandfather. "Why so dull and mute, young sinner?" he asked. Though young and fairly good-looking, his ancestor had a sour expression that he rather suspected he frequently sported. "I hope I don't look like that."

"Only when Sven outscores you in the Creed-Sven banter Classic," Train reassured him, grin broad. He glanced around. "You know, though, I haven't seen even one picture of you as a kid."

"Yes, you have. On Grandpere's desk." Creed pointed off in the direction of his Grandfather's office. "I'm not sure when it was taken, though."

"Huh?" Train frowned at him. "I looked at every photo there. I'd swear..."

"Here, I'll show you."

A minute later Creed picked up a heavy pewter frame and handed it to Train. "Right here."

Train blinked at the image for a long moment. "I don't see you," he said, puzzledly, then pointed at a tall, pale haired, young man in the back. "That guy just _has_ to be your father, but..."

"Right in front. In the sailor suit." Creed peered over his beloved's shoulder and winced at how he'd looked. Small, skinny, disgusted with life and clearly in a foul mood. His hair, still its original black, had been curled - his grandmother's idea. _I love you Nana,_ he thought sourly, _But that was a low blow._

Train stared at the little boy in the sailor suit silently, then said, "I didn't realize you'd gone prematurely grey." He glanced at Creed, "Though I should have, considering your eyebrows and lashes are still black. I always thought you dyed them."

Shrugging, Creed put the picture back. "Premature grey is a family trait." He pointed at his father, near twin to himself and just as fluffily innocent as he was now. "I'm not sure when it changed completely. I think there was still some black left when I went into St. Jude's. There wasn't any when I left." He tensed, he hadn't really meant to think of that place.

With a nod, Train changed the subject, seeming to recognize Creed's anxiety. "What's that building there, I wonder?" he pointed out the window. "Some sort of guest house?"

"The stables," Creed answered, and as Train raised a brow at him, added, "I used to spend a lot of time there." The memory was only just coming back. He hadn't spent a lot of time in the chateau - his family had lived in another building on the estate - but the stables had fascinated him. "Do you want to see?"

"Sort of boring in here," Train admitted. "There's only so many old paintings and pieces of furniture I can bear to look at."

* * *

Train followed Creed along the cobblestone path to the building his housemate had called the stable. "Are you _sure_ that's a stable?" he asked as they drew closer. "It looks more like a small mansion." 

"It was when I was little," Creed answered reassuringly. "It's not as nice inside." He pushed the door open, revealing the interior. A long room, painted white, with straw on the floor and neatly cared for stalls. The scent was familiar and Train was reminded immediately of his training. Like all of Chronos' operatives he'd been educated in a variety of skills. Horsemanship, though, hadn't really been a favorite.

Creed gazed up at the vaulted ceiling with wide dark eyes and Train wondered what memories were finding their way into that confused brain. "You okay?"

"This was a happy place." Creed's soft voice held a gentle tone. "Horses don't care if you quote Shakespeare or babble. They like it, even. Like hearing your voice." He moved down the middle of the hall, ignoring the blatant stares of the stable keepers. "I even had a horse of my own..."

"Still do, young master. Yer want t'see 'im?" Train could barely make out the colloquial peasant French but Creed immediately turned to look at the speaker. "Yer Grandpere ordered 'im be cared fer." Train blinked at the old man, wondering how he was managing to stay on his feet, much less work in the stables. Skinny, bent over, with a map of wrinkles covering face and gnarled hands, he looked like the essence of the ancient retainer. _Which, I suppose, he is. _

"Ralf? That's your name, right?" Creed asked, hesitantly. The old man nodded, gruffly, pointing off towards one of the stable doors. "My horse? But he must be ancient. He wasn't that young when Grandpere gave him to me!" Train watched his friend rush over to the stall and paused long enough to give the old man a friendly nod that got a slight twitch of the lips that could have been the stableman's idea of a smile.

Coming up behind Creed, Train eyed the animal drowsing away within the stall. "Ancient is an understatement," he commented. "Is it still alive?" The horse wasn't all that tall, a greying former black with sunken eyes and cheeks. Well-cared for, Train was sure, because something that old couldn't have survived this long without a lot of help. _That guy and the horse are a matched set. _

Giving Train a hurt look, Creed said, "Don't be mean, Train. He's just... old." He paused as the rheumy eyes opened and blinked slowly at him. Very, very slowly the old animal made its way to the door and nuzzled Creed, making a soft whickering sound. "Argos. Whom he himself

raised, but got no joy of him."

"Eh? Is that his name? Argos?"

Creed smiled wistfully, fingers reaching out to gently stroke the greying mane, then the bony eyeridge. "No. Odysseus' dog, recognizing him when he'd returned from the war after wandering 20 years." His hand moved to skritch between the horse's eyes. "Hello, Aster. It's been a long while, old friend."

"Would yer like t'ride 'im?" The old man was standing behind them and when Creed turned startled eyes on him, continued, "Yer none so heavy as I is. I keeps th'old fellow exercised. Walk 'im around fer a bit, ever' afternoon."

"Are you sure?" Train asked. "He looks too old..."

"So is I, young sur. So is I. Aster, he was nine when 'is young lordship rode 'im. 'e's in 'is twenties and well cared fer. 'e's jist a bit contrary. Likes 'is own way. Like 'is master did." The old man smiled at Train's amused expression as they both glanced at Creed, who blinked confusedly for a moment before understanding and flushing embarrassedly. Ralf chuckled, gesturing at one of the younger stablemen to come over with a light saddle and hackney bridle. "Yer lordship?"

"Train? Is it all right? I'd like to."

"Ralf, right?" Train looked at the old man and when he nodded, continued, "Can he run into any trouble around here?"

"Bless yer, young sur. Ever'one on th' 'state knows himself is 'ere. No 'arm'd come t'im."

After a moment more hesitation, Train nodded. "Okay. Creed, I really don't like to ride. Just make sure you come in before supper."

* * *

Creed hesitated in front of the building, gazing up at the three story house with uncertain eyes. How he'd ended up here was something of a mystery, though he rather suspected Aster had simply followed a remembered path. His own memory told him that he would often ride between the chateau and this old summer house. 

He closed the gate and checked the fence for holes, another memory reminding him of the time he'd nearly lost Aster. _Except I still don't know that that was an accident. I'm still pretty sure I'd closed him up properly._ He'd been devastated, terrified that he'd lose his pet and made more frightened by his nurse's gentle forgiveness that hid cruel innuendo. She'd wanted him to feel that way, he knew now, could see that truth where he could not have as a child.

Brushing those thoughts aside and unsaddling the old horse, he stroked the greying hide gently. "It's warm," he told the animal. "You'll be all right, right?" He smiled as the old horse nuzzled him, then went to munch contentedly on the grass in front of the house. He turned away and moved slowly to the doorway.

_Should I?_ It wasn't a matter of not being permitted into the building. St. Michel had said there wasn't a place on the estate that wasn't his to visit. It was more a matter of not being sure he wanted to remember this place. There were no happy memories here since his Grandmother's death.

Steeling himself, Creed used the keys St. Michel had given him and entered the old building.

* * *

Irritated seemed an entirely too limited way of describing Train's state of mind. It was late, past dinner time and the sun was beginning to set. Despite this, his wandering charge had somehow managed to forget the time and drift off like the tuft of dandelion he often resembled. Fortunately, his meandering path had been noted, so Train didn't have to search out the nano-machine radar in order to find his lunatic friend. 

Pausing outside the building, Train noted that the horse Creed had been riding was peacefully cropping grass in the yard. Its attitude was nonchalant, as if it were ridden in circles all over the landscape every day. "You're as bad as _he_ is," Train told the animal. The various people he'd asked along the way had told him the horse had seemed more in control of their direction than Creed.

With a sigh, Train stepped up to the doorway and tried the handle. Unlocked. He went in and found himself in a large foyer with blanket draped furniture. An old house, kept in good condition, as well furnished as the chateau, but obviously unused for many years. His flashlight gleamed on polished wood and sent rainbow shards of light scattering as it brushed past the chandelier. "Creed?"

No answer came and Train frowned, worried. Looking around, he noted a light shining somewhere down a hall on the second floor and he headed for it, passing marble statues and paintings of dogs and dead pheasants. At last he came to a doorway into the nursery, a room with brightly painted walls. Scanning the room, Train quickly spotted his charge, curled up on a window seat, his pale head bent over a large book that looked just about ready to fall from his fingers. A soft snore told Train what must have happened.

_Poor guy. He's had such a hard time of it._ Annoyance faded as Train watched his friend sleep. _I should have known he was tired out._ The afternoon's revelations probably hadn't helped. Creed might feel better knowing that he really had been deliberately damaged, but that didn't make the memory any easier to bear.

Approaching the broad, low, bench, Train glanced at the book in Creed's lap, instantly recognizing the illustrations as those belonging to Milne's classic work. He sat down at the other end of the bench and watched out the window as the sun began to set over the trees in the distance. Supper would just have to wait a bit longer.

* * *

Creed startled awake as the room faded into darkness. He'd turned the light on automatically when he'd come in, but it had been full daylight only minutes earlier. Staring around, he realized two things. Firstly, he was late returning to the Chateau. Secondly, Train was waiting for him with a patient look on his face. "Oh bother." 

A smile crossed Train's face. "Silly old bear," he answered. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep," Creed apologized hurriedly. "Are you mad?"

With a shrug that spoke volumes, Train laughed. "Yeah, I was. I was scared. Afraid something had happened to you. Fortunately, you left a trail a blind man could have followed. There's just something pretty impressive to your employees about a full grown man wandering around picking daisies." Train paused, then added before Creed could protest, "In a figurative sense that is. If you were anyone except the owner they would have sent for the local magistrate. As it is, they figure if the boss wants to do an imitation of a butterfly they're not going to argue."

Managing a small smile in return, Creed sat up. "I'd found this," he said, showing Train the book. "Nana gave it to me. I was reading it and..."

"Fell asleep. No great surprise. You're tired, aren't you?" Train got to his feet. "Are you hungry by now? Your chief cook is going to be a bit annoyed with you, considering that she's made a huge feast."

Creed cocked his head. "Killed the fatted calf?"

"Welcoming the prodigal home. Yep." Train beckoned for Creed to follow him and, after carefully marking the page in his book, Creed did.

* * *

Outside, Train went to pick up Aster's saddle. "Lucky thing it's a pretty short walk back," he said as Creed collected Aster's bridle and put it back on the old horse. "Or supper would really be delayed." He glanced at his companion, who was preparing to lead the horse out the gate. "Was it a good ride?" 

Creed nodded. "I enjoyed it," he said quietly. "It was nice to be with him again."

"You can't take him back with us, Creed." Train had been thinking about that ever since his friend had gone off with the horse. "He..."

"Wouldn't survive the trip. I know." Creed gave Train a peaceful little smile that reassured Train that there was no problem after all. "He's my horse, yes, but he's Ralf's too. Ralf was there when Aster was born. He trained Aster, took care of him. Rode him in the races when Aster was a yearling. He and Ralf have always been together. Even if Aster could come back with me, it wouldn't be fair to either of them to take him away."

Train looked at his friend for a long moment. "I'm glad you understand. I admit, I was worried."

"He likes me and it's nice that he remembers me," Creed said quietly. "But we don't have to be together to be happy. He wasn't pining for me all these years and he won't pine for me when I'm gone again. Will you, old boy?" He ruffled the horse's mane. "It's okay with me, Train. It makes things easier, really."

Train nodded, walking companionably beside his friend, the horse between them ambling along quietly. "Creed?"

"Hmmm?"

"I want to say something I should have said before." He glanced over the bowed neck of the horse at Creed's face, pale in the light from the lamp posts marking the edge of the pathway. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" Creed's expression was puzzled.

"I hurt you. I had to do it to get past the fantasy you'd built, but... I didn't do it because of that. I did it to be hurtful." Train had never really wanted to admit how much of what he'd done when he'd captured Creed had been lashing out.

Creed went silent for a long moment. "I know that. I know too that you helped me because you felt sorry for me, and guilty over what you'd done. It's all right. Really it is. You had to do it, even so." Before Train could protest, Creed smiled at him. "We wouldn't be where we are if you hadn't. I needed to be hurt if you were ever going to get your point across. I'm... very stubborn... I like my own way, as Ralf says."

Train forced back a laugh. "Yeah, that's the truth." He sighed. "Still..."

"Train. I did it to myself. If you hurt me, it's because I made myself believe I couldn't exist without you. I... think I could now, if you wanted me to. I know I'll never be as important in your life as Sven and Eve. I'm okay with that. I love you but you don't have to love me to make me happy. I'm just glad to have what you're willing to give me."

Looking at Creed's distant expression, Train wished he understood his friend better. "Creed," he said softly. "I just want you to know, even if I never love you - and even now I can't imagine that happening - you matter to me. I was scared for you."

Dark eyes turned Train's way and Creed smiled sweetly. "Thank you. I know you would have gone for Sven first, but..."

"No."

Creed stared at Train and the young Sweeper continued. "If it came down to only one of you, I would have grabbed whichever one of you I could reach. Then gone back for the other. I would have dragged you _both_ out of that hellhole by the heels if I had to. I would _not_ have left either of you there, not even to save just one." The rage in his voice was barely controlled and he hoped Creed understood it was aimed at Carvel and not him.

Silence followed nearly angry declaration. "Train..."

"I mean it. Even not knowing what Carvel had done to you I wouldn't leave you in his hands!"

A quick sad smile crossed the other man's face then and Creed added in a soft whisper, "All there ever is, is a part of us."

Train didn't know what Creed might be quoting, but he did understand what the man was saying. "You're part of the household, now, Creed. That doesn't change as long as you don't want it to." He found himself smiling at the brilliant little smile that Creed gave him. _It's not that I love him. It's just... that he somehow has become a part of my life that I need around. He's a friend - and I can always use more of those._

To Be Continued...


	42. Terror

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

TERROR...

_June 6, 2004 _  
Train woke suddenly, sleep troubled by some distant noise. Lying in the unfamiliar and far too soft bed he stared through the darkness at the elaborately decorated ceiling. _Oh, yeah. DeVerry Chateau._ It felt weird to be staying here, in a place so far above any lifestyle he'd ever dreamed of. Some of it was sort of nice but most was just a bit too much.

_The food's good, but I get food this good at home._ He had to laugh quietly at that thought. Creed had spent a good hour or so in the kitchen with the cook discussing what they'd eaten. Doing so had calmed the aggravated cook down immensely, not only because of the careful courtesy with which Creed handled outsiders but because of his obvious interest in the meal itself. Train knew perfectly well that that interest had been driven by a wish to recreate those dishes that he himself had shown a liking for. He'd also kept his mouth firmly shut on the matter. _Especially since I'm looking forward to him trying those dishes out on me._

A soft sound in the distance reminded Train of what had woken him. _Now, what was it?_ He sat up, pushing velveteen covers off, and listened carefully. Another faint sound that he couldn't quite identify. Instinct, though, said he ought to investigate.

Getting out of bed, Train padded to the doorway and opened it, listening intently. _Oh. Damn._ He knew that sound, had heard it before, in those days when Creed had first moved in with them, though almost never when he was there to see it. The sound of weeping, soft whimpering sounds of a man desperately trying not to be heard and failing. _Creed._

* * *

Creed struggled against the sobs that shook his body. He'd thought he was going to be okay, thought that he'd been able to overcome the memories that Carvel had resurrected. He'd thought wrong. Curled up, nearly fetal in his desperate attempt at self-control, he lay at the center of the huge bed and fought against the thoughts inside his head. _They threw me in the garbage!_ he wailed mentally, covering his mouth with his hand to keep the words from escaping, the memory of being captured by the police that first escape, of being tossed in the nearest garbage can. Their laughter echoed in his ears and he wanted to howl and scream. Somehow he did neither. 

The only real bright spot was that Train wasn't there to see him. Bad enough that he'd fallen apart earlier that day. Bad enough that he'd been unable to keep the whimpering agony that never seemed to go away from soaking Train's shirt in an emotional display he _knew_ just made his Cat uncomfortable. He wanted Train to comfort him, to help him out, but he'd already asked so much. What would happen when he finally hit the end of Train's patience?

Again he saw That Man's face. Carvel. Again he faced memories long since buried. That voice, self-assured, all-knowing and always right. That certainty, complete and absolute, that someone as damaged as Creed had been could never be useful, that he could never _ever_ do anything that would be of value to anyone. "I'm not garbage," he whispered. "I'm not. Oh please..."

"Of course you aren't."

Creed stiffened. "Train... I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean..."

His Cat came over to sit beside the huge bed, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards, arms folded on the back. He quirked his lips in that wry way of his and shook his head. "I know you didn't. Bad dreams?"

"No. I haven't been able to sleep..." Creed wiped his face in his sleeve and forced himself to sit up, to stop crying. "Bad memories. I..."

"Have every right to be upset." Train's patient tone hurt almost as badly as everything else did and Creed shook his head, fighting back tears again. "Creed... Are you trying to throw my words in my face again?"

"Wha?" Confusion reigned and Creed just stared at his beloved blankly.

With a sigh, Train reminded him, "Back when... you gave yourself up... when you let me put you in Annealment House... I told you to stop whimpering at me. Are you _still_ trying not to cry because of that?"

* * *

"I... suppose that's part of it," Creed admitted slowly, rather surprising Train at the admission. "You... don't like it." His expression shifted, his face a study in light and shadow. Moonlight made his pale features stark and gave them a more mature appearance than they usually had these days. His wistful expression softened that look, though, creating a confused impression of someone both too old and too young. "Yet... It isn't just that." 

Train waited, watching his friend's face and trying to decide exactly what to make of it. "_I_ don't like it when I cry either. I don't like feeling pathetic. I don't like feeling like I have to be coddled. Like all I'm good for is making a fuss." He winced at Train's expression. "I'm not trying to throw your words in your face again."

"Eh?" That startled Train. He remembered bits and pieces of that day clearly but not everything he'd said in the heat of anger. Still, he could guess at what Creed meant and he smiled reassuringly. "I know you aren't."

With a relieved sigh, Creed leaned back on the pillows and Train continued. "Look. Everything I said then, I said because I was furious with you. Furious with everything you were doing and everything you were saying and... well, just plain pissed off."

A small smile quirked Creed's lips. "I'm so good at making people angry, or uncomfortable." He looked down at his hands. "I do things men aren't supposed to do. I feel things men aren't supposed to feel and I can't seem to help but let everyone know it."

Train considered that. "Yeah, that's probably a big part of why you weird people out," he agreed. "They might be able to overlook the media references but..." He shrugged. "It's part of who you are, though. You can't help being more emotional than most men. Back then... I was mad because _everything_ about you had me torqued off at you."

Looking up, dark eyes intent, Creed nodded. "I earned it. I know that much."

"Yeah." Train met the other man's gaze directly. "You did. You've also earned my respect, since then." At Creed's startled look, Train continued. "You could have kept on the way you were going. You could have just ignored everything I said and driven yourself further into insanity. You could have forced me to kill you in the end." He lifted a hand. "And please don't say I should have."

"Oh... no... I'm glad you didn't. So very glad to belong to you... that didn't come out right, did it?"

Train chuckled. "Not really, but I think I understand."

* * *

Somehow Creed doubted Train really understood just how much control he had over the situation. _Except in the most instinctual way, that is._ That was where Train would always be Creed's superior - that intuitive skill at reading situations and people and finding what made them tick without having to understand it. Of course, most people had a better intuitive understanding of others than Creed had. _And that's just the way it is._

"You know," Train was saying, "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Trying to figure the whole thing out. What makes some people take the hard parts of life without blinking and others just shatter?" His eyes, golden even in the pale light, were distant. "We both had a crappy start, though I'm willing to grant yours was a touch crappier - but I was able to bend with it, able to make it out."

Creed shook his head. "Losing your parents... being dragged around by the assassin who killed them... That was worse. You had love. You had a happy life and it got taken away." He looked down. "Mine... I almost think it was easier... I didn't lose as much."

Train sighed, laughing softly. "You won't even be my superior in pain?" he asked.

Wincing, Creed shrugged. "I wish... I wasn't so weak," he said regretfully. "Unable to escape without help."

"Creed, don't get upset, but... frankly, Saya was what helped _me_ out. I'd never have found my way on my own." As Creed winced, pulling in on himself, Train reached out, touching his shoulder. "I know. You felt she was taking me somewhere you couldn't follow - and I didn't see that."

Biting his lip, Creed managed a smile and shook his head. "It wasn't _your_ job to see it. I wanted you to. I wanted it so badly that I made myself believe you did. That you shared my pain. Shared my anger... my anguish... and hated everyone else because of it." He swallowed back tears. "I needed you to understand, so I decided you did, that it was only because _she_ interfered that you didn't." As Train nodded, Creed managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Train sighed, looking off into the distance, then turning a wry smile on Creed that made him feel rather like melting right then and there. "If there's anything I understand it's that."

Creed swallowed, struggling against an urge to throw himself into Train's arms and suddenly very glad of the chair back that prevented him from doing so. Train grinned, obviously well aware of what Creed wanted to do and continued, "I won't say don't be sorry. But... Well, look at it this way. Which of you is the better person right now? Carvel or you?"

* * *

Dark eyes blinked at Train for a moment. "I... don't understand." 

"I don't know a lot about him, of course," Train mused, thinking over all the facts that he'd learned in the last few days. "But Carvel built St. Jude's to be a place for those who had no place in society. The right thing but maybe for the wrong reasons. He seems to have been more interested in keeping those people _out_ of society than in finding a way they could function in it. Yet there are a lot of folk in his asylum who really would cause trouble if they were free."

Creed gave Train a quirky little grin. "Like me."

"Yeah, well it's still not clear who let you out of your cage, that's true." Train shrugged. "Don't interrupt. He was doing something important and I bet it was important to him. But he was willing to permit you to be lobotomized and to cover it up when it was screwed up. Maybe he did it for the money. Maybe he did it because he believed it would help you. Main point is, it was done for what I'm sure he thought was a good reason and he still thinks it."

Creed shuddered, hand going to his forehead momentarily, then nodded slowly. "I believe that."

"Then there's you. Screwed up, messed up to the point that you can't recognize wrong from right unless someone clips it to the tip of your nose and forces you to re-read it every morning and every night. Utterly unable to do the right thing on your own instinct." Train knew his words were hurting Creed and he hurriedly added, "And because you love me. Because you want to please me, you permit yourself to be kept under my control. You accept me as your surrogate conscience and you let me decide what's best for you. The right thing for the wrong reasons, but most importantly, the _right_ thing."

Those eyes stared at Train, wide, childish and wondering. The eyes of the stunted soul that still reached out. _I don't love you, Creed, but I respect you. I hope you understand that._ Train continued, "So which of you is the better man in the end? Carvel? Or _you_?" He put his finger out and poked Creed in the forehead with it. "The undamaged man with no excuse for what he's done except a wish to keep the useless out of the way or the damaged man who is at least trying to overcome that damage?"

Creed's breath came in short soft sobs and Train wondered if he'd pushed too hard and too fast. Then, with a smile that had a faint shadow of the old, strong and self-confident Creed to it, Creed answered, "Me. I am."

* * *

For a moment, just the barest moment, Creed was afraid he'd answered wrongly, that he'd somehow misunderstood. Then he realized that Train was startled not because of his answer but because of the strength and certainty with which it had been expressed. He smiled up at Train hopefully, and was deeply relieved at the fist that suddenly ruffled his hair. 

"And don't you forget it." Train sat back. "Now, another question for you. I was going to wait until later but... well you seem to have gotten a bit of strength back and..."

"Go ahead." It was Train's presence that was helping Creed focus, he knew, and it would be very easy to slip off into his personal lala land, but not just yet. The sense that he'd pleased Train was enough to encourage him and give him the will to hang onto his thoughts.

"Think you can manage to face him?"

It suddenly hit Creed what Train meant. "Trial? I'm a witness..." He felt like a pit was about to open, but Train put a hand on his arm. "Public? No... can't be... Chronos wouldn't want me in the public eye at all."

Train nodded. "Good. You understand that. I talked with Sephiria. She's set up a private hearing. Carvel will face a judge, but the whole thing will be handled outside the usual courts."

Torn, Creed sighed. On one hand, this was the kind of thing that made Chronos what it was, what made people hate Chronos and seek to overthrow it. On the other, the very thought of having to describe what had happened to him in public was terrifying. "I can handle it," he said at last. "I don't want to look in his face again but... I think I have to."

To Be Continued...


	43. And Trial

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

...AND TRIAL  
_June 13, 2004 _

Sephiria watched the proceedings in the monitor silently, feeling grim and not a little angry. Grim because the last thing she wanted was to be involved with Train Heartnet's pet psychotic. Angry because she still could _not_ understand how all of this had come to be. Angry because the man who stood on trial had helped make one of her people into a monster. Angry because she had allowed herself to be persuaded that that monster could be made into a functioning member of Chronos.

_I was lied to but that is _not_ an excuse. His insanity was right there in front of me. As plain as the nose on my face and as real and solid as my saber._ She stared at that madman now and remembered what he'd been. The charming courteous young warrior. The melodramatic youth whose fits of excess caused most people to draw back from him. She'd put him with Train for that very reason. The Black Cat's apparent cool emotionless nature would be a fit balance for Creed's excesses. Just as Creed's emotional excesses would balance out Train's colder personality. _That and no other Number would put up with him... Either of them. _

Except it hadn't worked that way. Train had gone his own way, had ended up leaving Chronos and becoming the light-hearted Sweeper that he was now and Creed... Had gone completely berserk. Even now Sephiria wasn't really sure what had set him off. Creed had been going to take Train's place. Was about to become a Number, with only a test of his loyalty remaining to prove him worthy. He had not only failed that test but it had apparently driven him completely round the bend.

Now, after having caused Chronos more trouble than any one man had a right to cause, Creed had 'reformed', or rather he had permitted himself to be reformed, had allowed himself to be reshaped by Train, to become the befuddled creature that sat in the witness chair and gazed witlessly around the room in what appeared to be a blank and empty daze.

_Except he answers all the questions._ Sephiria noted to herself. Somewhere under that fluffy white head the brain was operating - just on a peculiar little delay, shifting off into tangents as he talked. He was irritating everybody in the courtroom except his housemates, who were used to his behavior. Sephiria, less tolerant, couldn't really blame the defense lawyer for his tone as he asked, "So you're saying he forced you to become a killer?"

Blinking, Creed stared at the man. "Oh no. That was my choice." He glanced over at Train, who shook his head, then continued, "But my lips are sealed." A long finger raised to slide across those lips and dark eyes gazed innocently upwards. "If I told you, they'd have to kill you."

The lawyer looked ready to pursue the question but the judge beckoned him over. Through the small speaker attached to the man's tie, Sephiria could hear him say, "That witness is not to be questioned regarding his lifestyle between his leaving St. Jude's and now. Remember why this trial is private."

Sephiria smiled wryly. It simply wouldn't do for Creed's involvement with Chronos to become common knowledge. The organization had to be protected, after all. It was the only reason she'd agreed to this private trial in the first place.

With a sour look, the lawyer nodded, then returned to questioning Creed. He focused now on what had happened during the kidnapping, attempted several times to try and twist Creed's words into an entirely new meaning, only to be thwarted by Creed's own talent for twisting things into knots that Alexander couldn't have undone, even with an Imagine Blade. The media references, needing frequent translation as they did, helped ensure that the lawyer couldn't work things up by rapid fire questioning. Creed would simply give one of his weird, screwed up, little responses and force someone to look it up in a computer. By the time the answer was translated, the impetus was lost and couldn't be recaptured.

At last the case closed and the judge had taken an hour or so to consider the matter. "The circumstances of this case are unusual in the extreme," he said quietly. "Our prime focus has been determining Dr. Carvel's involvement in the abduction of this young man and one of his guardians. This has necessitated some discussion into the doctor's practices and his mistreatment of this young man while in Dr. Carvel's care, but given that this case is not intended to cover that particular instance, I am only empowered to judge the matter at hand."

Sephiria noted with approval that everyone had carefully avoided using Creed's name. The less evidence there was that Creed Diskence had been involved in this case the better. She listened as the judge finished with, "The evidence is very clear and while the young man's accuracy may be questionable, there is no reason to doubt that of his guardians, one of whom had been kidnapped along with him. Dr. Carvel, I find you guilty of abduction and attempted extortion. I sentence you to ten years in solitary confinement."

ooooooooooo

Creed took a deep breath and relaxed in his chair as the sentence was read. It had been inevitable. He knew how Chronos worked and while the small, sentient, part of his Self deplored the nature of the beast the rest was simply relieved to have it on his side, at least this once.

Oddly, he didn't really feel particularly happy about the verdict. _Not unhappy either. Just... numb._ Creed glanced over at Carvel, wondering how he was going to react and saw the utter hatred and fury in the older man's features. A part of him - the child part that still remembered being in Carvel's care - quailed at the look in that man's eyes, but most of him felt nothing.

_My mind's protecting itself again,_ he realized and took a deep breath. "Train... don't let me do anything stupid." He clenched his hands on the arms of his chair to keep himself from grasping at his love.

"Problem?"

"I... don't feel anything. Not angry, not glad... nothing. My... heart's not open."

Train looked at him consideringly. "I know what you mean. You're in shock. You know what you mustn't do, right?"

That was easy to answer. "No kill I. No hurt I, either."

"I'll help you keep to that. On the other hand, if you need to do something non-permanent, that's okay too."

Creed blinked at his beloved, then was distracted as Carvel rose to his feet. In a public trial a prisoner was often allowed to speak, to be given a chance to apologize. Apparently this was going to be true here as well.

"I only have one regret. That I did not successfully contain that... creature... there. If I have any failures, it is he." Carvel's eyes on Creed caused him to stiffen and he stared, wide-eyed, at the older man. "I may not be permitted to discuss what he became after his final escape but I think we all know what sort of monster he is. Had he remained in my care none of this would have been necessary. Had he been kept away from the world, kept away from the very real people he has injured, he would never have done anyone any harm."

A warning murmur from Carvel's attorney interrupted momentarily but apparently Carvel was on a roll. "All he is, is a useless waste of breath and space. Garbage that should have been kept locked away, to keep him from contaminating the rest of the world." Carvel glared at Creed, who found himself on his feet, found himself moving forward, Train close behind. "Go ahead, garbage. Kill me. Show your true colors."

It hit Creed what Carvel was trying to do. To force him into behaving the way he used to, to prove Carvel's point. _Except it isn't true._ "This is the only thing I have to show you," he murmured, and punched Carvel in the nose.

ooooooooooo

Train blinked at his housemate. He'd expected yelling, screaming and anguished crying. He'd expected possibly having to leap to Carvel's defense, to pull Creed back before his anger and pain got the best of him. He had _not_ expected this. _Hmmm. Guess he's got some guy genes in there somewhere._

Train barely gave Carvel a glance where he sprawled, stunned, on the floor, blood pouring out of his - probably - broken nose. "You okay, Creed?"

Creed was looking at his knuckles with an interested expression. "Broke them, I think," he murmured as the bruises faded and a small, audible, snap sounded. "Ow. I think my nano-machines are mad at me for that. That fix _hurt_." Train sniggered as Creed continued, turning away from Carvel without giving him another glance, "Can we go home now, Train?"

Before Train could answer, Carvel's voice, muffled by his hand and by his damaged nose, broke the air. "So that's all... you are... now. Nod eben a killer. Worthless, except as your master's pet. A mockery ub manhood, a fool and a mountebank."

Creed paused, glancing back at Carvel. "Heavy misfortunes," he agreed contentedly, accent taking on a faint British taint. "But the pet of Train Heartnet must have such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to his situation, that he could, upon the whole, have no need to repine."

It was a struggle to keep from laughing. Train couldn't have guessed where that one came from but the quote, whatever it was, turned Carvel's face a bright shade of purple. "You're nothing!"

Creed turned, looked at Carvel for a long, level, moment. "Through dangers unnumbered and heartaches untold, I have fought my way through the labyrinth to win back the soul that you have stolen. You have no power over me." Then he turned and walked out the door.

ooooooooooo

Sephiria stood in the hallway waiting for Creed and the others, watching the pale haired man walk towards her. Behind her, Balder and Krantz shifted uneasily, for their dislike of Creed was controlled only by their obedience to their duties. "Was that necessary?"

It was Train who answered for Creed. "Yes." To Sephiria's surprise, he didn't elaborate, simply waited for her response, watching her with that peculiar, calm, look he got when he was at his most centered and secure in himself. An expression she'd only seen on his face once before - when he'd decided to leave Chronos. An expression that was reflected in Creed's face - quiet, calm and strangely at peace

Turning her gaze on Creed, Sephiria tried to work out exactly what it was about him that seemed different. Not the cold calculating killer. Not the bewildered child. Something had changed, a sense of growth. _Is this good, though? Creed confused and unable to think straight is something we can keep under control._ Sephiria didn't want to think what a sane Creed could do to cause trouble if he wanted to.

"That was fun. Let's not do it again." Creed's voice, soft and sweet, showed that some things hadn't changed. Even as she watched the man behind the idiot slid back down, fading back into foolish self-complacency. "Hi there, Balder, Krantz. Do you have a toilet with my name on it or can I go home now?"

A soft growl from Krantz was the man's only answer. Out of the corner of her eye, Sephiria caught a glimpse of Balder's finger coming up in a vulgar gesture. Sephiria felt her lips pull sideways in a smile that had nothing related to humor in it and muttered, "Stop it. All three of you."

Turning a stern look on Creed, who now resembled nothing so much as an aggravating brat who knew only too well she wasn't able to spank him, Sephiria said. "You may go, then. Stay out of trouble. We still have our eye on you."

"Looking at me you can read my mind?" Creed asked, and giggled as Sephiria fought down an urge to smack him. Fortunately for her dignity, Train grabbed him by the arm and dragged him past the three Chronos numbers. "Hey. I was just..."

"Being a nuisance. Let's go," Sven said, grabbing his other arm. Eve curtseyed politely to Sephiria, then hurried after.

The last thing Sephiria heard was, "I bet you left the house a mess, didn't you?"

"Hey, we were more worried about chasing you down."

"Honestly. You could have picked up a few things. I'm going to be cleaning up for weeks!"

"Nag, nag, nag. You think you're my mother?"

"Creed's right, Train. Someone has to pay attention to details. For that matter, how much did it cost for you to come after us?"

"Would you prefer we left you there, Sven?"

"No fair, Eve!"

The argument continued all the way down the corridor and Sephiria watched them go, forcing her face to hide her emotions._ I think,_ Sephiria decided, watching them go, _I'm glad I don't have to deal with them anymore._ Listening to Balder and Krantz argue about the best way to dispose of Creed Diskence, she added, _I've got enough troubles. _

To Be Continued...


	44. Intermezzo: Chronos

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

INTERMEZZO: CHRONOS

_June 20, 2004 _  
The long black car started moving away from the twisted pathway where an elderly woman stood, watching it go, her eyes cold and hard beneath an elaborate tattoo on her forehead. Within, as if aware of that regard and unwilling to interrupt it, the two occupants were quiet for several minutes.

Not until the car had put that pathway up the mountainside, and its sole occupant, long behind them did the driver speak. "How is she?"

"Kashima-sama is unchanged," Sephiria answered, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. "Utterly unchanged and unchangeable." She rubbed at her cheek, where a thin bloody slice marked the perfect skin, expression rueful.

Belze glanced through the mirror at his leader, blue eyes considering. "That bad, eh?" he asked sympathetically. Kashima-sama was a retired Chronos Elder and Sephiria's sword master. A woman of stern and rigid personality, her skills with the weapon were without parallel. In the time since her retirement she had accepted only four students. Of those, two had not survived the experience. The other two were Sephiria Axe and Creed Diskence.

Eyes turning to look out the window at Mt. Fuji, Sephiria sighed. "Worse. She has no idea what she's done. And there was no way I could tell her that would reach her, no way to make her understand." Her eyes went distant. "And if she did understand, I don't think I'd have survived."

That was puzzling and Belze said as much. "You went to ask her what might have happened to make Creed turn against Chronos so completely. Didn't she have any idea?"

"She _said_ it was because he failed to listen to what she taught him." Sephiria's eyes flashed as she met Belze's eyes again. "There was no way to make her understand that it was _because_ of what she taught him that he turned."

_Six years ago: _  
"_You_ are my potential student?" Kashima Yuki gazed coldly at the slim pale-haired boy who was watching her with wide, bemused, dark eyes. "YOU?"

"I... think so."

"You _think_ so." She moved around him, studying the way he stood, the way he reacted. Gazing straight ahead, unmoving, unresponsive. Stupid. A fool, no, worse than a fool. She stopped in front of him. "I hate men. White men most of all. All of you are worthless. You pretend you understand what it is to fight. What it is to master the sword. You have no clue." The dark eyes merely looked at her, confused and childlike in their brilliance. "What do you know?"

"I've been taught fencing, broad sword, katana... They say I'm good."

"They. Who are these faceless, nameless, they you speak of? I, and only I, am judge of what is _good_." She pointed. "Take up a sword. Any one of those and try and strike me."

He moved then, long limbs awkward, like a clueless puppy, and gazed at the weapons hanging from her wall. First one, then another, he took down, examined and replaced. At last he picked up the katana, the precious Kotetsu that she had won from her very first enemy, spoils of a war that had never truly ended. He had an eye for weapons then, because the blade was exquisite. He turned, drawing the blade in a smooth, surprisingly graceful motion.

"You aren't afraid of hurting me?" she mocked.

Those eyes stared at her. "If I could hurt you I would not be here to learn from you," he said quietly. Then he closed his eyes for a moment and - when he opened them - there was an intensity in them that had not been there before, a focus that both startled and gratified her. _So. Not an entire fool. Not entirely useless._

His movements were awkward where they ought to have been precise, however. His posture not quite on target. It was easy to dodge him, easy to move past his attack to strike him with the flat of her hand. Easy to cut him with the small dagger she carried. Rather surprisingly, he didn't protest, simply kept up the attack, dodging hers as best he could, and making only the smallest sounds of pain when she struck. He learned quickly to evade her, though, dodging around the furniture in ways that made it harder for her shorter arms to reach him.

It was heartbreaking in one way. This boy could have been something if she'd gotten him earlier, if he were still a child. He could have matched, possibly overmatched her finest student - Sephiria - but because he was already a near adult his ability to learn was compromised. She might be able to teach him something but he would never be anything but merely competent. She was about to stop him to say as much when he suddenly twisted, rolling forward, grabbing the back of a chair. He flipped over it and slashed at her while standing - upside down - on his hand. The blade swung past her bare millimeters away from her eyes.

_Close. Very close._ She knew that move. Had taught it to Chronos' sword teachers as a sop for her refusal to remain at headquarters to train the next generation of warriors. It was as nearly perfectly performed as she herself could have done. Had she not known of such a move, had she not been the one who had perfected it, she might have been hurt. As it was, it was a simple matter to sweep the chair out from under him and send him sprawling. She dropped to one knee, pressing it into his chest, her dagger at his throat. "Enough. How long have you been practicing that?"

"Six months," the boy said quietly and she sighed for him. "Ma'am?"

"Were you younger, more flexible, I could teach you. But you are filled with ingrained habits, your body is entirely too used to doing things its own way. That move should only have taken you three months to learn. You do it well, that I will admit, but..." She frowned at the confused frown on his face. "What?"

"Ma'am? I meant I've been training with a sword for six months. I learned that move last week. The Master said I should use it when you tested me."

She slapped him. "Liar. How dare you?"

"Ma'am?" The dark eyes simply gazed at her with profound puzzlement. "I'm not lying. I wouldn't dare lie to you. You'd kill me."

For a moment she considered his face. At last she rose to her feet. "You'll prove yourself. If in a week I can teach you a single move then you may be my pupil. If not... you're right. I'll kill you."

He rose to his feet and bowed.

oooooooooo

She set him up in front of a device that fired small, hard, rubber balls about the size of a large grape. "Like this," she demonstrated. "Dodge what you can. Use your sword to deflect the rest. In the end you will dodge none and strike all."

The rest of the day she watched him, straightening his form where necessary, reminding him to pay attention as needed. He had a regrettable tendency to be distracted by small things, resulting in many bruises and - at least once - a near concussion. The balls were fired fast and close together, for she was making no concession to his inexperience. Nor, intriguingly, did he. Rather he simply got back up and kept trying with a stubborn determination of the sort she'd never seen before - except, perhaps, in herself.

At last, after supper, she pointed him to a bed and went to sleep herself, only to be awakened in the night by the sound of the machine firing its balls, again and again and again. At first she thought she'd forgotten to turn it off, but soon realized that it was being refilled, that her new student was practicing late into the night. _Well, well, well. Maybe he _did_ learn that move in a week. I can _do_ something with this one. _

She let him continue, expecting that he'd learn his lesson that rest was as important as practice. When the third night came and - in the middle of a thunderstorm - she could hear the pop pop pop of the machine, though, her patience was at an end. "BOY!"

"Ma'am?"

"Go to bed. For God's sake. Don't you have the sense to come in out of the rain?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Well, take my word for it. The thing will be there tomorrow. Sleep. Now."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As she returned to her bed it occurred to Kashima that there was a reason it had only taken the boy six months to learn the sword. _There's nothing else _in_ there to interfere. _

oooooooooo

He didn't have to be killed at the end of the week. Or the next. Or the one after that. Month after month passed and while she didn't think he'd ever be as good as her favorite pupil he was a force to be reckoned with.

At last the time came for him to leave her. She wasn't entirely glad to see the back of him. There was something terribly earnest, profoundly grateful, to the way he accepted her teaching. Never had she had such a student - even Sephiria had needed to be cowed before she could be taught. After some consideration, she handed him her Kotetsu and - when his eyes widened - said dryly. "There's a caveat."

"Ma'am?"

"You are not a true leader. There is that in you that needs guidance. That needs someone to show you the right path." He nodded, obviously understanding and accepting the analysis. "When you leave here, when you return to Chronos, find the only person truly worthy of you. Find someone who is strong in more ways than just physical strength. Someone who wins by more means than that of force. Find someone for whom wisdom and intuition is as much a weapon as their skill. Find one with the strength and will inside them to be a true leader. Find and make that one your master and the only one to whom you will give your loyalty." Her eyes narrowed. "Then never swerve, even if your life is at stake."

He bowed. "Yes, Ma'am."

_Present day: _  
"I don't understand. I know what Kashima-sama meant. She must have intended him to follow you. You're the strongest of us, the wisest and the most intelligent." Belze almost grinned at the blush that suffused Sephiria's cheeks. It was true, though. She didn't get where she was by spreading her legs to the Masters, but by proving herself, time and time again. Only twice had she erred in her choices and Belze felt she could be forgiven for being too fond of that young rogue Train to be willing to harm him. As for Creed - well no one had expected him to go berserk on them.

Regaining her speech, Sephiria shook her head. "I know that's what she meant, but think about it. Creed was already predisposed to dislike me. I'm like Kashima-sama in a lot of ways, though I hope I'm more flexible. From the way she described his training, it's obvious that she never made him feel like he was worth something - except as far as being a killer went. Even worse, I resemble his mother. He had no real reason to _want_ to regard me as the one he should give his loyalty to."

A soft sigh escaped the blonde woman's lips. "I'm strong, wise - if you insist, and intelligent. I win by more means than physical strength. Yet there is one person who is a match for my strength and my intelligence. One person who wins - over and over - despite the odds. I don't know if it's luck or skill, intelligence or intuition, but to Creed it must have seemed like a near supernatural force." She gazed into Belze's eyes through the mirror. "He obeyed her. Implicitly, entirely and completely. He found the one he felt fulfilled her intent and he gave himself over to that person. She meant me, but he decided it was Train."

Belze went silent, gazing thoughtfully at the road. At last he spoke. "And what happens if he ever understands that. If he ever decides that Train _isn't_ the one to follow?"

"We'll probably have to kill him then. Except... I don't think that will ever happen. The nature of his attachment seems to have changed already. The attachment itself, though, remains as strong as it was before." She sighed again. "We created him, Belze. Chronos made him and I think we're going to have to live with the result."

"He said it himself. The fault lies not in his Stars, but in ourselves." Her eyes darkened. "And that will have to change."

To Be Continued...


	45. The Gift That Keeps on Giving

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http/ so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

_June 25, 2004 _  
The door crashed open suddenly and Eve and Creed, who'd just sat down to supper, rose to their feet, half expecting another attack. Instead they realized that Train was standing there, a panicked look on his face, panting hard.

"Train?" The two spoke at the same time, Creed's voice cracking a little with fear, Eve with forced calm. There was no sign of an injury on Train but he was missing something, or rather some_one_, important. "Sven?" Somehow she expected what came next.

"He's hurt." Train took a deep breath and straightened. "We got in okay but... The target had something we didn't expect. A flame thrower."

Now Eve was really scared. "Train... what happened?" She should have gone in with them. Should have been there to protect Sven. Fear warred with anger. This was Train's fault. It had to be. His next words confirmed it.

"I went in too fast. I would have dodged but Sven didn't think I'd make it. He... took the shot." Train's tone was hard and so filled with self-disgust that Eve's anger died away. Sven knew the dangers, anyway and it would be like him to try and protect his partner at risk of his own life. _I should have been there. _

Creed went to Train. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it is. I went off on my own. The way I usually do. I trusted my damned luck and this time..." Train sobbed and, with obvious effort forced himself calm. "Never mind. He's badly hurt, Eve. You'd better come. Both of you."

* * *

The situation was as dire as Train had said it was. Sven had been burned over most of his body and his chances of survival were minimal according to the doctor taking care of him. Creed realized with surprise that he felt almost as upset as Train and Eve over this. Sven had become a friend and losing him was going to hurt.

Still, another hurt needed to be dealt with and while Creed knew he wasn't competent to help, he had to do something. Train had disappeared soon after the doctor had given his prognosis and no one knew where he'd gone. At last, leaving Eve with Sven, Creed went to look.

Creed wasn't really sure how he knew where to find Train. Possibly it was some inner instinct that made Creed better able to guess at Train's reaction to such a situation. Or perhaps it was just that the two were more alike than Train might have wished to admit. In any event, Creed stepped out onto the roof-top of the clinic into the night air and found his Cat sitting on the ledge, a jug of milk in one hand, unopened and ignored.

"I want to be alone."

Creed hesitated. A part of him thought leaving Train alone in his current state of mind might be a bad idea. Another part - the part that trusted Train's judgment above all else - wanted to turn around and silently leave. He took a deep breath and Train's voice growled, "I mean it."

"No." Creed wasn't sure where the firmness was coming from, but he knew he couldn't just walk off and he said as much. "I want to help."

"There isn't a damn thing you can do!" Amber eyes turned to glare at Creed, their fury so deep that Creed nearly stumbled back, away from them. From somewhere inside him, however, he found the spine to stand his ground as Train shouted. "I said go away!"

Silence. Creed walked forward, trying very hard not to show his fear and hurt or any of the thousand and one dark little emotions that were trying to break free. Train rose to his feet, started towards him and Creed paused. "Why the hell won't you go away?" There was a faint sob in Train's voice.

ooooo

"You've never left me to fall." Creed's answer was soft, barely audible, and filled with a kind of anguish deep inside that startled Train out of his moment of self pity. "When I needed you most. When you saw that I was about to lose my grip, you caught me. You kept me from falling until I could find a foothold and you've been pulling me back up the cliff-face - despite having every reason not to - ever since."

"I..." Train didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to react. He'd always been the one who comforted Creed, who took care of the hard parts. Now he was the one in need of comfort and damned if he was able to accept it. From Creed's expression, from the tone in his voice, it was obvious his friend was feeling just as lost and scared about the whole situation as Train was.

"Please? Please don't turn away from me, Train. I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Please... let me help you." Creed's smile was wry as he took a step forward, putting a hand out to touch Train's shoulder.

The tears that began to stream down Train's face were accompanied by loud, anguished, sobs. Everything had just become too much to deal with. He felt so stupid, so utterly helpless, and it was all completely his fault. As Creed pulled him close and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, Train slid down, forcing his companion to follow.

ooooo

Creed sat on a low wall, arms around Train's shoulders, listening to the deep sobs that - ever so slowly - faded to quavering breaths. "He's going to die," Train said at last. "Isn't he?"

"I don't know," Creed answered truthfully. "The doctors don't hold much hope, but..."

"Too much of his skin was burned. Body can't take that." Train leaned his head against Creed's side, his voice thick with emotion. "Damnit!"

Creed stared down at dark spiky hair, trembling and struggling not to weep himself. He felt torn. Even now he didn't care nearly as much about Sven as he did about Train. He felt sad that the man was dying, but he couldn't have said how much of that sorrow was due to Train's anguish and how much due to his own concern. _Some of it is, though. I'm going to miss him. _

In the end, it didn't really matter. Unless someone could find a way to save Sven, the man was going to die. It was years now since Creed's training by Chronos, but Creed could remember being told that burns that covered more than a certain percentage of the body were almost invariably fatal. It would be a long, slow and agonizing death as infection set in, permitted entry through the damaged skin.

"Creed?" Train's voice was soft, tired.

"Hmm?" Drawn out of his thoughts, Creed turned his eyes onto his beloved and waited. After a moment, Train whispered, "I'm sorry. This can't be making you feel very good." He shuddered in Creed's arms. "I..."

"Shhhh. How many times have you kept me from breaking down?" Creed couldn't help but touch Train's hair, couldn't help reaching down to hold a trembling hand. "I... I admit I'm not good at this. But it's only fair." His usually unfocused thoughts were oddly clear - Train's need for him to make some semblance of sense helped him force himself to behave more sanely that ordinarily. "It's fine."

Train paused, looked up at him. "Creed. When you say something's fine it usually isn't."

That startled Creed and he thought about it, eyes locked onto Train's. _I suppose that's true,_ he admitted to himself and repeated the thought aloud. "I don't like it. It hurts to see you like this. Hurts to know you're hurting. You're supposed to be _my_ crutch." He attempted a wry smile and knew it was weak and hopeless. "I'm hardly prepared to be yours... but if it isn't fine it _is_ fair. If the spoiled thirteen year old is whining inside, that's just the way things are."

Slowly nodding, Train leaned back against Creed. "I'll... go down in a bit. Talk to the doctor. See if there's anything... any hope somewhere to cling to."

Neither man admitted their doubt that such a thing existed.

* * *

Creed moved quietly through the darkened room. Empty except for the occupant of one bed, the soft sound of monitors measuring heart rate; of other devices that Creed couldn't identify; of labored breathing, was all that could be heard. Slowly moving to stand near the bed and peer through the plastic surrounding it, the pale-haired man took a deep breath. "Sven?"

For a moment Creed thought he was going to have to make his decision all by himself. Then Sven's eyes flickered, the vision eye a strange shade of deep blue, the other a light grey. Though his head remained still, the eyes turned to look at Creed. "Don't try to talk. I have a question. Can you understand me? Knock three times... I mean... Blink once... no, twice for yes."

A faintly humorous look managed to find its way into Sven's eyes and he blinked twice. Creed could guess at the joke - it would have been pretty silly to treat a single blink as an affirmative answer. "Sven... You know you're..." He almost couldn't say the word, but managed after a moment to finish the question. "You know you're dying?"

Two blinks.

"I think I could save you." Creed gazed directly into the man's eyes, forcing himself to hold onto this moment of clarity. He had to make himself understood. "But... only by giving you some of my nano-machines."

Those eyes widened into a startled stare and Creed continued, hurriedly, "They saved my life. I think if I gave you enough of mine they'd save yours. I'd... I'd ask Doctor to help - but I'm afraid Chronos would interfere."

A motion around the throat told Creed his housemate - _no, my friend. He's a friend. Not as important to me as Train but a friend, damnit!_ - had swallowed hard. "I won't force them on you. I'd ask Eve, but I don't think her nano-machines could do it. They're part of her... created by her body. They're not built for transfer into another system. Mine are medical nano-machines. Fixing whatever body they're in is what they were created to do." That they had been mutating over time he carefully avoided considering.

Very slowly Sven closed his eyes and Creed wondered what the man was thinking. Watching Sven's face was useless, as covered in bandages as it was. He held his breath, waiting, and finally the older man opened his eyes and looked straight at him. Then blinked. Twice.

ooooo

Pain was at a distance for Sven and he was very glad of it. He'd been lying there, waiting for some change, knowing that that change would probably be for the worse, and wondering how long it would take. Then came Creed, mad, sad little Creed with his one hope - offered with the terrified air of a child uncertain of his reception.

Though not fool enough to think the man's offer was driven by love for him, Sven also recognized that it was no less sincere. Creed's love for Train had extended itself far enough to mean some sort of concern for those Train loved. _And, in an odd way, I think we are friends too._ He and Creed had fought all the time, certainly, but with a growing respect for each other.

In the end, of course, the decision was driven by another factor. Acceptance of death was one thing. Wanting and desiring it another entirely. Sven quite simply didn't want to die. He certainly wouldn't have wanted Creed's nano-machines under more normal circumstances - the loss of a limb or some other injury - but life mattered to him enough to take the risk.

Watching Creed, he wondered what the kid would do now.

ooooo

Swallowing, suddenly terrified, Creed could only hope he was doing the right thing. He took off his jacket, tossing it over a nearby chair and undid the buttons of his left sleeve, rolling it up. _It's going to take a lot. Sven can't afford to wait for the nano-machines to populate themselves._ He'd have to give as much as he possibly could.

Carefully, Creed undid some of the bandages on Sven's left hand and sat down on the bed beside the older man. Sven's blonde brows drew together momentarily in pain and Creed gave him an apologetic smile. "I have to touch the injury... I'm sorry."

Two blinks.

With a sigh, Creed took the charred hand in his and focused his attention on the nano-machines in his body, causing them to reshape his hand so that its substance surrounded Sven's. Then he began intertwining them into the damaged skin, releasing them slowly, once they'd made what felt like proper contact.

_Hurts. Oh God... it hurts._ He hadn't expected that. Changing the shape of his arm had always been simplicity itself. Even throwing small bits of stuff created by the nano-machines had been easy - if not as effortless as Eve made it seem. This was different, though, for it was his own substance that was being drained away, not extraneous bits created by his nano-machines. Nerves and muscle and bone were being transformed down to their base form and broken away.

The pain rose, slow and steady, from what had been his fingers and up into his hand and it was a terrible effort to maintain enough substance to act as a conduit from his body to Sven's. He gritted his teeth, whimpering a little, and felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead. The pain went past his elbow, up into his biceps, then to the shoulder. His only respite was the fact that once the pain had passed onward there was almost nothing left behind to cause further pain.

_Not enough._ He could feel that much through the link with Sven's body. Could tell that his nano-machines weren't numerous enough to replace the skin cells damaged in the fire. _More. As much as I can give._ He didn't bother to consider the consequences if he gave everything, just kept pushing and pushing.

Now the pain was more complicated. His left arm and shoulder had been mostly nano-machines and it had been easy to transfer them. Now he was drawing on those nano-machines that were scattered through the rest of his body and that meant dragging them through his system, away from their current tasks and to their new home. His leg hurt, his eye was bleeding and it was becoming very difficult to breathe. Still he forced himself on. Forced himself to continue until his body could take no more. Forced himself to continue until darkness claimed him.

* * *

Train returned to the hallway after another talk with the doctor to join Eve, sitting beside her quietly. Creed had disappeared, but he couldn't really blame his friend for needing to be alone for a bit. This was as hard on Creed as it was on the rest of them. _Maybe harder. He's still not stable enough to take a situation like this easily._

As the two Sweepers sat there, Train wondered what to say and opened his mouth, only to turn startled eyes on the door to Sven's room. A muffled thump had sounded, soft but distinct. "Sven?" He jumped to his feet, flung the door open, with Eve close behind him.

Sven lay still, eyes closed, seemingly unchanged but that wasn't what sent a chill through Train. Creed lay on the floor, sprawled in an ungraceful heap, blood seeping from what had been his left arm, more blood streaming from his right eye and elsewhere. He looked, in fact, much as he had that day Train had found him after his battle with Balder and Krantz. _No, worse... _

Crashing to the floor beside Creed, Train caught him up. "Creed! CREED! What happened?" It couldn't have been an attack. The fight would never have been so silent. He stared into the white, drawn face and felt panic rise as Creed fought to breathe, gasping violently for air. "CREED!"

"C...an't...brea..the..." Creed's good eye stared wildly, terror in his expression. "Train... Can't..." He clutched at his blood-stained chest with his right hand and Train suddenly realized that the left sleeve lay loose and empty all the way up to his collar bone. "Train... Help..."

Train shook his head, confused and befuddled. What had happened? Why was Creed in this state and what in God's name was he to do to help? Panic rose in him as he suddenly realized he was about to lose another friend. "Creed. No. Don't do this to me. Please don't die. You can't die!" He couldn't lose two in one night. That was more than anyone ought to have to bear.

"T...train? Sven? Sven okay?" Creed's gasping voice cut through Train's terror.

"I... don't know..." Train wasn't sure why Creed's expression shifted, softened and was suffused with such joy but he set that thought aside in favor of looking up at Eve.

"He's fine, Train. More than fine. Creed... must have given him his nano-machines." Eve turned a look of pain onto the pale haired man sprawled across the floor. "Sven's going to live, I think." Not said was her obvious fear that Creed would not.

Understanding hit quickly. All the injuries Creed's nano-machines had repaired had been re-opened by the man's gift to Sven. Train stared down into the pale face, saw satisfaction in his uninjured eye before it closed and the too light body relaxed into unconsciousness. "Damnit! NO, Creed. You can NOT die on me." He shook the man's shoulders, then lowered him to the floor and prepared to begin artificial respiration.

At the same time Train's cell phone began ringing. He ignored it, putting his hands on Creed's chest. He was about to press down when he felt a sharp sting on his wrist and realized that a peculiar and familiar insect had landed on him. _Shiki. That little..._ Before he could yell at the Tao user - wherever he was - Train found his hand reaching down to pull the cell-phone out of his pocket and switch it on. Eve stared at him curiously as his hand was forced up to his ear.

"Mr. Heartnet. Do not attempt resuscitation in that manner." The voice was the Doctor's and it had a firm tone to it that forced Train to listen. "If, as I suspect, Creed has donated enough of his nano-machines to encroach upon his lung tissue you would be doing him more damage rather than saving him."

"Well? What the hell am I supposed to do?" Train glared at the cell-phone and his helpless hand furiously.

"Oxygen. Get him on oxygen immediately. His current difficulty is due to the fact that his remaining lung tissue is not nearly sufficient to supply oxygen to his blood stream. I believe his nano-machines will save him if you can keep him stable long enough." The Doctor sighed softly. "I would offer my services but I am already risking discovery by phoning you. If there is more I will have to find another way to contact you. I do not think it will be necessary, however. As long as Creed wishes to live, he will be very hard to kill."

As the cell-phone clicked off and Train felt his arm come back under his own control, he looked up at Eve, even as one of the clinic's nurses and the doctor came rushing into the room. "The oxygen tank. Hurry!"

* * *

_June 26, 2004 _  
"Stop that."

Sven winced at Eve's tone and hurriedly pulled his fingers away from his arm with a guilty look. "But it _itches_!"

"You aren't going to help it doing that," Eve scolded. "You just need to let your body get used to the nano-machines."

It seemed to Sven like an impossibility that he would ever get used to the odd, faintly creepy, flow of movement through his outer layer of skin. "How does Creed stand it?" he wondered aloud. "He's got a helluva a lot more than I do." He paused and, glancing at the unconscious and frail looking figure on the other bed, corrected himself. "_Had_ a lot more than me. Is he going to be okay?"

Train, sitting between them and looking more harried and exhausted than Sven had ever seen him before, nodded tiredly. His left hand was in Creed's remaining hand, apparently having been grasped in a death grip during the last few minutes of excitement. "He's breathing on his own now. Those nano-machines may not do much for old damage but they work fast when their host's life is at stake. Might take a while for the rest to grow back but the crisis is over."

Sven sat up, eyeing the man whose actions had saved his life. Then he climbed to his feet, slowly working his way over to Creed's bed. "Is it just me, or is he missing more left arm than Janos took off in the first place?"

Eying the man in the bed, Eve nodded. "He is. Once the nano-machines rebuilt his left arm the first time they've been slowly replacing the rest of his body. Sooner or later they'll take over entirely." She glanced at Sven and he understood why. He too was likely to end up - years from now he hoped - as much a nano-machine colony as she and Creed were. _Hell, even Train._ Half the time he forgot about the Lucifer nano-machines that Creed had shot Train with.

Reaching out, Sven patted Creed's good shoulder, knowing the pale-haired man couldn't hear him but needing to thank him none the less. Before he could say anything, though, he felt a sharp surge of static rise up through his hand and into his thoughts. "What the hell?"

"Eh?" Train blinked at Sven, who was looking at his hand, then at Creed.

"I dunno what just happened. It was like I was picking up his thoughts." At Eve's nod, Sven frowned. "You mean I was? Man. If that's what goes on in his brain it's no wonder his head's screwed on backwards."

Train shook his head. "Don't understand what you mean."

Patting Creed's shoulder again, but this time making sure he made no skin contact, Sven sighed. "It's like he's getting about twenty radio stations at once. Weirdest thing. If he's like that all the time I don't know how he manages to walk straight, much less talk clearly." He glanced at Eve. "You knew?"

"The only thoughts that come in loud and clear are about Train," Eve agreed. "The rest is a blur. I never mentioned it before because it didn't seem like it would help anything. He can't help it and there's not much we can do, either."

Train shrugged and Sven could see the wry amusement in his eyes at the realization that Creed's ability to focus was - even now - entirely centered around him. "Nope," he agreed, then laughed softly as Sven's stomach growled. "Eve, why don't you take Sven to get something to eat?"

"What about you?"

"I'll stay with Creed. I could pry myself loose, but he's resting so comfortably right now. I don't want to disturb him." Train grinned at Sven. "Just bring me a jug of milk and maybe a bowl of soup for Creed for when he wakes up. I'll be fine."

As Sven and Eve headed out the door, Train added, "Oh, and Sven? I'm really glad you're alive."

Sven grinned. "Yeah? Well, so am I."

ooooo

Air had never seemed so sweet before. So wonderfully sweet and kindly. It flowed into and out of aching lungs and carried away the pain. Slowly it was becoming easier and easier to breathe. Creed listened to the soft sound of electronics humming, the occasional bleep of a monitor. So much more pleasant that the fuss that had surrounded him not very long ago. People talking rapidly, a panicked and very dear voice saying his name, insisting that he breathe, that he not give up.

_As if I'd give up when he cares for me? Dear sweet silly Train._ He smiled, smugly happy in the knowledge that it had been to him that Train had first gone to in the moment when he realized Creed was in danger, that Train hadn't even bothered to check on Sven. _And you know perfectly well he did so because he thought Sven was hopeless,_ he scolded himself. _You can lie to the rest of the world but don't lie to yourself any more, you damned lunatic._

Still, it was a nice dream to hold onto and while he knew it was only a dream he wasn't quite prepared to let go. He especially wasn't prepared to let go of the warm, strong, hand that his right hand was clutching - and had been from the moment he'd been pulled up into a bed, an oxygen mask placed over his face.

"You're faking." Train's tone was amused. "I know you're waking up."

Blinking his eyes open, Creed managed a smile. He ached, his throat and lungs still sore from his earlier effort to breathe. He couldn't talk yet, he hurt too much, but he hoped recovery would be soon. There was so much he wanted to say to his love. He tightened his hand around Train's a moment, then, regretfully, let it go.

Rather to his surprise, though, Train kept his hand where it was. "I don't have anywhere to go right now," his Cat explained. "Eve is with Sven - he's fine, itchy but fine - and I... just want to be sure you're okay." That didn't clarify why Train was permitting him the comfort of his touch, but Creed wasn't going to complain.

Instead, laying still and exhausted, Creed kept his eyes on Train. It was an effort not to permit the absolute adoration he felt for the man to show, but he forced himself to stay under control. "Tell... him... don't... scratch." He knew from experience how useless doing so was. The nano-machines didn't really care how their host felt about what they were doing and scratching just gave the things more to work on.

"Eve's already threatening to tie his arms behind his back. Don't worry about that." Train narrowed his eyes at Creed and added. "By the way, once you're better, I'm going to smack you upside the head."

ooooo

Gazing down at Creed's widened eyes, Train winced. _The trouble with scolding him is he takes it so seriously._ It was really hard to be tough on someone when they gave you the Great Big Puppy Eyes of Doom. Sven might hate Creed's chipper little-kid smile, but it was this look that made Train nervous. He had to fight down an urge to be even tougher, as if doing so would overcome any temptation he had to spoil his friend.

"Not," Train added, "literally. But if you ever put yourself at risk like this again, you'll damn well do so _after_ consulting me."

"...sorry..." The tiny voice trembled.

"You scared me, stupid. Please don't do that again." Train put a hand on Creed's good shoulder. "I didn't need to lose two friends."

Creed nodded weakly and Train glanced over at the man's left shoulder, stripped bare to permit the nano-machines room to work. There was more than there had been an hour ago. "Looks like it's starting to grow back already. Want some food?" Another tired nod. "I've got some soup right here. You'll have to wait until your jaw heals to get anything solid." He shook his head. "You've certainly managed to get yourself beaten up over the last few years."

A wry little smile was the only answer.

ooooo

Creed sipped at the soup Train was feeding him and tried very hard not to let the happiness of the moment make him think thoughts he knew were impossible. As if he understood Creed's dilemma, Train continued talking, changing the subject. "Y'know, it occurs to me that nano-machines have become the family bug. Not one of us are entirely free of the things." At Creed's frown, he added, smiling to take the edge off, "Lucifer, remember? You shot me with 'em."

Creed felt his spirits fall. He'd almost successfully left that memory somewhere far back in his old, bad, past. That the Lucifer nano-machines hadn't killed his love, or truly messed him up, didn't make what he'd done any better. Then Train's hand rubbed the top of his head in a half-noogie. "Hey. Don't worry. Over and done, remember?"

Nodding, Creed sighed. "You don't use them, so I don't think about it."

"Mmmm. Not much in the way of control," Train admitted. "Maybe if I really wanted to work it out I could, but I haven't needed the one decent ability they gave me and, as for being a kid... I'm happy the way I am. It was sorta fun, but it makes it damned hard to fire Hades." He grinned. "Besides, I don't need you glomping onto me and calling me KAWAIIIIII the way Kyoko did."

That deserved a weak chuckle. "She... was an enthusiastic girl," he admitted. "But I prefer you the way you are." He knew why that was. He needed Train to be stronger than he was, to be the support he still desired as much as required.

Train kept feeding Creed. "Anyway, let's hope the Doctor doesn't get any ideas about finding out just what our various nano-machines can do. I get the feeling he's keeping an eye on you as much as because you keep messing with his expectations than anything related to the Hoshi."

It hurt to shrug so Creed didn't try. "He has a great deal of scientific curiosity," he agreed quietly. When he'd been the Hoshi's leader it hadn't mattered because it was helping his cause. Now... Well bad enough he'd had to give up an ounce or so of nano-flesh in payment for Doctor's help, the last thing he wanted was to be part of Doctor's experiments.

Creed set the thought aside as Train held out another spoonful, watching his beloved with a rising happiness. He hurt, was going to hurt a lot more soon when the joints really started repairing themselves, but the fact that he mattered, that he was needed, was so much more important that he could care less about the agony.

_He'll never love me._ Creed understood that truth as a completely solid piece of knowledge. _But he cares. If I died he would be sorry._ That knowledge was enough, and more than enough, to make what he'd done worth it. That Sven would live was important too, but secondary to the understanding that he'd given his love a truly valued gift and been gifted in return. Suddenly he chuckled as he remembered something else.

"Hmmm?" Train eyed him curiously.

Creed smiled, pleased with himself. "Tell Sven happy birthday. I hope he likes my present."

To Be Continued...


	46. Soliloquy

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (kosaginolegion) so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

SOLILOQUY 

_July 4, 2004 _

High above the city, fireworks exploded. A soft summer breeze caught at the smoke, carried its scent far, acrid in the nostrils of the man standing at the base of a low hill studded with pale stone. Monument after monument, some old, some new, all with names and dates. All that was left of lives long gone.

"Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned." The soft voice was barely audible, quavering with barely contained emotion. Its owner moved slowly up the hillside, glancing occasionally at the map he'd been given, flicking his flashlight from stone to stone. At last he stopped. "Minatsuki Saya." His tone was flat. Emotionless. He was rather proud of that self-control.

The grave was one of many, barely discernable in the shadows. The stone itself was plain and undecorated, just a name and some numbers. Surprisingly, there were flowers on the grave, a small bouquet carefully tended. _I didn't think she had any family here. _

The man's movements slowed even more, unwilling steps carrying him through the grass, past marble, past carved angels and old style crosses. Until at last he stood in front of the grave. "I don't really _want_ to be here," he said softly, forcing himself to gaze down at the stone. "But then, I suppose you don't really want to be here, either."

Dark eyes gazed at the gravestone. She hadn't been that much older than himself, that day. He moved forward, started to kneel, only to stop and stiffen at the sound of a step behind him. "I have permission to be here," he said quietly. "Do you need to see the letter?"

"Turn around, slowly." As the man did so he flinched, the flashlight in the newcomer's hands blinding him. "Where is this... Oh my God... It's _you!_"

oOo

George Walker's hands were shaking and he jumped backwards as the man who still haunted his nightmares raised a hand. It was a gesture intended to block the light from his eyes, but memories of that long ago night made it appear a threat. "Er... Do I know you?" The voice was the same as before, higher pitched than most men's, with a faint note of insanity in its depths. _No. It's not quite the same._ The tension he remembered in the man's voice was gone, the sense that - any minute - its owner was about to detonate in an explosion that would rival the fireworks rising above them. "Officer?"

Realizing the man was waiting for his response, he slid one hand down to his pistol, then stopped helplessly, terrified. He'd seen how fast this man could move and knew he could never draw his weapon before he'd be killed. He couldn't see the sword but he remembered it only too well.

"Would you _please_ lower that light, officer? I can't see."

_Chance!_ George grabbed at the pistol, lifted it. "Don't move. You're under arrest!" He was practically pissing himself, terrified and determined at the same time. He couldn't let this guy get away. Not after everything he'd done.

The black eyes went wide and confused. "Er... for visiting the cemetery?" His voice was strangely childish, a little hurt, as if he couldn't understand. "I told you I had permission," he added plaintively.

"NO, YOU IDIOT! FOR MURDER!" George wasn't sure why he was so angry, though it probably had to do with just how scared this guy made him. _When did he shrink? He's shorter, thinner than I remember._ It wasn't right to be terrified of a skinny little wisp of nothing. A thought occurred to him then, what if it wasn't ... _him_? "You _are_ Creed Diskence, right?"

Embarrassment suffused the pale face, as if he'd accused the man of a minor peccadillo like running around in women's clothing or dancing naked in the streets, instead of being the leader of a terrorist organization and a vicious killer. "Er... I'm relatively sure I'm off the police lists these days."

oOo

The young, terribly young, police officer's expression - what Creed could see of it - kept shifting from terror, anger and chagrin. Finally mobile dark features settled on a peculiar mix of all three. "So? You're still a murderer." The expression tried to shift again, as the man glanced at the grave behind Creed. "She was one of your victims! I know. I saw you kill her!"

Understanding hit. "Oh. Oh dear. You're one of those three, aren't you?" That, at least, explained the terror. The night he'd killed Saya three teenagers had witnessed the crime, had nearly become his victims as well. "Would an apology help or exacerbate the situation?" he couldn't help asking.

"An... apology?" The young man's voice was raw with disbelief. "An _apology_? Is that the best you can do?" His pistol wavered in his hand, the flashlight flickering in Creed's eyes sending a shooting pain as the light blinded him. Again. "Don't MOVE!"

Creed ignored the order, hand going to his head, other hand pulling out a pair of sunglasses from his coat. "Sorry," he managed say plaintively. "I have to put these on if you're going to keep shining that in my face. That light _hurts_."

There was a startled silence and Creed rather thought it was more because his behavior was putting the man off balance than any sort of self-control that prevented the young officer from blowing, trying to blow, his head off. "An apology is about the only thing I _can_ do for you, officer. Unless you're planning on shooting me out of hand, you're not going to be able to arrest me for anything more than trespassing - and, as I've said, I have permission to be here." Silently, he blessed the adrenaline flowing through his system. He was getting better about not letting it turn him into raging scary Creed and he needed it to help him think clearly. He glanced down the hillside, wondering if he was going to be rescued and sort of hoping not. This was _his_ problem to resolve and he wanted to do so without having to be protected from himself.

Creed might be avoiding raging scariness but the young man looked just about ready to explode. He hurriedly offered an explanation and hoped it would be enough. "Officer, I can't help acting oddly. I realize my behavior is not what you expect it to be, or what it ought to be, but..." He shrugged, forced himself not to smile _that_ smile. "I understand that I've frightened you, that - quite probably - you remember that night with a great deal of terror."

oOo

To call his memories of that day terrifying was an understatement and George couldn't help saying as much. "You murdered that poor girl. Would have murdered me and my friends. I don't see why you shouldn't pay." Diskence was right that he was no longer a wanted man, that - for reasons never explained - his crimes had been pardoned, or at least wiped out of the records. George had never understood that, had been utterly confused by the change. It was as if, to international law, Creed Diskence had never led the Hoshi No Shito. When he'd tried to find out it had been made very clear to him that he'd be safer and better off not pressing the point.

The pale face turned towards the grave behind him. "Yes. I did. Yes, I would have. And I don't know _how_ to pay." The soft voice trembled. "There are too many deaths on my hands, and only one life to die for them. Nor am I being permitted to pay that way."

Disbelief warred with rage and won. "Are you trying to say you're sorry for them?"

"No." The word was spoken in a flat chill tone that shifted over to a regretful ache, "To be sorry for them I would need to feel what I did from their perspective... and I cannot. I regret, but it is as much, or more, for myself. For what my sins have brought me, I am deeply sorry, but... for selfish reasons." Creed eyed him then, expression serious. "I want to feel it. I want to understand it. And I fear that I never will."

The pale haired man turned, knelt at Saya Minatsuki's grave. "I'm not here for you," he said quietly. "I can't change what I did, or why. I can't make your fears go away and I can't make what I've done any better. I don't ask forgiveness, or understanding. I think, though, that you would do well to let it go - for your own sake, not mine."

The pistol in his hand shook. He could fire, could kill this man. He might even find a way to get around the repercussions. He wanted to. Wanted to so desperately that he found his finger tightening on the trigger without really intending it to. Only Creed's voice, that startlingly childlike voice, stopped him. "Aim for the head if you truly intend to fire. Anything else probably won't kill me." Kneeling, almost like a statue in his stillness, he added, "Otherwise, go away. I want to be alone with her."

oOo

It was a calculated risk, especially since he could tell the young man was about the closest he'd ever been to losing control. Creed knew that people tended to become easily infuriated with him and while he might not understand why he made people so very angry he at least knew they did. _Well, no. I understand the principle. It's just down in the gut that I don't get it._ He probably never would, either.

Realizing he was allowing himself to be distracted, he glanced sideways. The young man had lowered his pistol, was staring down at him with that expression he saw so often on people's faces. Utter bewilderment mixed with complete disbelief. The 'You cannot possibly be for real' expression that Sven had down to a fine science.

"Why are you here?" the young man asked plaintively. "You just said yourself you can't do anything to change what you did. What use is it? Are you going to desecrate her grave? Pray for forgiveness?" He shook his head angrily. "It's not like she's _here_ anyway. All that's there is what she left behind. Whatever it is you came here to do, you could have done anywhere."

They were good questions. They were also questions that couldn't be answered, because Creed simply didn't know why he had to come. He gazed down at his hands, at the long scar on the left, the four crescent marks on the right. Stigmata that would never leave him, constant reminders of his madness and lack of self-control. Constant reminders of his sin and his inability to comprehend it. "Train asked me that too," he murmured, more to himself than to the young man. "Tell me. Why are cemeteries necessary? If what you say is true, then why do people bother with gravestones and flowers and visits?" He pointed at the flowers on Saya's grave. "Yours? One of the other two's?"

"Oh... I guess I see your point. But... why? Why do _you _want to be here?"

"Because, there are things that need to be said. Because five years ago I killed her. Cut her down in a fit of jealous rage that I pretended was cold-blood. Because I owe her at least this much. Because if it were not for what she did I would not be where I am now."

oOo

George didn't understand and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Instead he stepped back a bit. "Go on. Do what you came to do. Then get out of here." Diskence opened his mouth to speak but he interrupted. "And no. I'm not leaving. You can't do much worse to her than you already have, but I wouldn't put it past you to try."

"You're not making this any easier," the pale-haired man complained and George shrugged in response. "Very well."

For a moment there was a long silence as Diskence very obviously ordered his thoughts, staring down at the grave, his breathing tense and shaky. "I hate you," he said softly, surprising George entirely. Of all the ways to start, that had not been one of the options he'd have considered.

"I hate you so much, sometimes, that it's all I can do not to rip myself apart. All I can do not to rip my hating raging heart from my chest to make it stop hurting."

"I hate you for not seeing that I needed Train the same way he needed you and for the same reasons."

"I hate you for being something to him that I couldn't be then and never can be. Never _will_ be..." Diskence choked momentarily. Took a deep breath.

"I hate you for seeing his real self when I couldn't."

"I hate you for being right."

Another silence. Then, "I hate the world. For being what it is. For not saving me when I needed to be saved. For never giving me the chance to save myself. For taking every hope I ever had and shattering it..."

"...and I hate myself for hating. For blaming everyone else, even now, for my pain." Pale hands clenched and pressed against Diskence's knees. "I hate myself for having killed you. For causing _him_ so much pain. For not understanding him."

"I hate myself for just being me."

George stared down at the man, unable to fully understand what was being said, emotions as mixed as they could be. There was too much pain in Diskence's voice, too much hurt - a childish, selfish but very real hurt. _I still don't see the point to this,_ he thought, as a tear trickled down the other man's pale cheek.

"I don't know if I can ever stop hating. Maybe it isn't possible. Maybe I've gone too far down the road to ever come back. I certainly can't go back to where it began and I can't make my sins go away, and I can't make my hurts go away..."

"But... I just wanted to tell you. Whatever else I do. Whether or not I learn to see the world the way you and Train do... whether or not I learn to care the way you do... I will always love Train and I will never, ever, do something to hurt him again."

"I can't apologize to you. I can't bring you back to life to return you to him."

"All I can do is promise to take care of him for you. As best I can."

"For the rest of my life. However long or short it may be."

To Be Continued...


	47. Three Men and a Little Baby

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

THREE MEN AND A LITTLE BABY

_September 23, 2004 _

"Oy, Creed. You flipped out yet?"

Absent mindedly, only peripherally aware of the speaker, Creed examined the burger on the grill with a speculative eye. "Only burgers, River," he answered, suiting action to words. A chortle of laughter greeted the effort and he glanced down at his audience. "Cheeseburger, right?"

"Uhhuh."

"Who you talking to?" As Creed got the cheese out of the refrigerator two heads leaned over the counter and he heard a sharp exclamation from Kevin. "Hey! Don't touch that, kid!" There were several sudden noises and Creed turned to look at the two Sweepers, puzzled at their behavior. Kevin had snatched up the child he'd been left to mind and was pulling him over the counter, shouting, "HOT!"

Suddenly dismayed, Creed stared at the scene. Kevin holding the boy tightly, River staring from him, to the kid in Kevin's arms, to Kevin and then to the stove. "Creed Diskence, who the hell was stupid enough to leave _you_ with a baby?"

"Not baby!" the child protested. "BIG!"

"And heavy," Kevin agreed. "But not big enough to be near a stove, little guy." He didn't look quite so upset as River, possibly because he didn't expect much better out of a man like Creed.

_And I can't blame him,_ Creed thought angrily at himself, going white and sitting down, hard, on the nearest chair. "I... didn't think about that." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Would you mind terribly punching me, River? I deserve it for this. I'm not safe to be in public."

oOo

River thought about accepting the offered strike and decided that it wasn't really going to help. Kevin's dire expression of warning helped seal his certainty. "No Creed. I will not."

"Where's Annette? Does she know this child is here?" Kevin asked, setting the little boy down on their side of the counter and handing him his sippy cup.

"She went to the fish market. They had a special catch come in and she was hoping to get some for tonight." Creed was still looking devastated and ready to beat himself up if Kevin and River refused. It occurred to River that they'd better talk the man down before he spazzed out completely.

"And the brat?" River ruffled the little boy's hair, noting the mischief in the child's eyes with a feeling of worry. This was the sort of kid that regular adults had trouble handling. God knew what would have happened if he and Kevin hadn't shown up.

"His mother... or something... asked me to watch him for a little. She said she'd be right back." Creed took several deep breaths and glanced at the television, face going whiter as he seemed to realize something. "That was two episodes of Maushaus ago. I've really screwed up, haven't I?"

Kevin knelt beside the boy, looking into the kid's dark eyes. "What's your name?"

"Doggie."

River choked with laughter. "Doggie? Who names their kid something like that?" At Kevin's irritated look he settled onto the nearest chair. "Hey, you'd better do something about that burger."

While Creed hurried over to the stove, dropping cheese on the sizzling beef, Kevin continued interrogating the brat and getting not particularly far. At last he looked up. "I'm not going to get any clear answers."

"What do I _do_?" Creed finished the cheeseburger and put it on a plate, movements so smooth that River was pretty sure he was operating on habit. "I can't leave. And I wouldn't know to look even if I could!"

The boy, Doggie, climbed up and grabbed at the burger, saying something about being hungry - at least River _thought_ that was what he said - then whined, "HOT!"

"Of course it's hot, short stuff," River told the boy. "It's just off the stove. Blow on it." He looked at Kevin, as flummoxed as Creed over the situation.

oOo

With a sigh, Kevin sat down beside the boy and began breaking up the burger. "You," he said, looking at River, "are going to hunt around for the kid's mother. Creed, you call the police, tell them there's a lost kid here. I'll stay with him, help keep him out of trouble while you run the shop."

River's expression turned brattily annoyed. "But I haven't eaten!" he whined.

"I'll make you another burger first, all right?" Creed handed Doggie the mustard, almost absentmindedly and Kevin took it away, carefully pouring some on the boy's plate.

Grumbling, River finally agreed and - one burger later - headed out the door. Kevin glanced at Creed, who was still looking pretty upset. "Creed. Don't be so tough on yourself. No one should just leave a kid in a stranger's hands like this." He glanced at the boy beside him, who was carefully picking out the meat from between the pieces of bread and getting himself covered with cheese and mustard. "There are going to be times when people who don't know better think you'll be able to handle something you can't."

Creed shook his head. "The trouble is, I _ought_ to know better. I shouldn't have agreed. She was so fast though. I barely had time to say anything." He went to the stove and began cleaning off the grill. "I thought she was going to the washroom. I didn't expect her to run off and leave him. I... just can't seem to grow up."

With a chuckle, Kevin began cleaning the boy's face off. "Aside from leaving him near a hot stove, I don't think you did that bad." He sniffed, "Whoops. Though I think somebody's going to have to do something about his pants. Wow, Doggie, that's quite a load you got in there."

"Poopie." Doggie's complacent answer.

"Yeah, poopie. And you don't have any diapers, do you?" As Creed gave him a bewildered look, Kevin glanced across the street. "All right. You come over here. Sit with him, don't let him leave the table, but don't have him sit - it'll just make a big mess. I'll go find a drugstore or something. Back in a few."

oOo

Creed sat beside the little boy, watching him eat with a lost, unhappy, feeling. He should have known better. He should have run after the girl. He should have... _I should stop whining. The kid's here and I'm stuck. At least Kevin seems to know what he's doing._ He took a deep breath, winced at the odor that hit him in the nose, and wiped the boy's face with a napkin. "This is a fine mess," he murmured.

"No. No clean. MINE."

"Was I this bad?" Creed wondered aloud. He didn't remember his childhood very well, certainly not his toddlerhood, but he was beginning to suspect - based on his current personality - that he'd been infinitely worse. "Doggie. I'm not good with kids. Please don't be difficult."

The smell was getting worse and Creed realized the child's pants were fuller than even Kevin had thought. _I have those old dishcloths Annette was going to have me throw in the rag bin._ They hadn't been used for their final function before being tossed yet so they were clean enough. He'd have to take the child to the utility room, but as long as he left the doors open he'd be able to hear the chimes on the front door.

Picking the boy up and holding him out at arm's length, he headed into the back.

oOo

"Guys... I can't... HEY, where are you?" River stared around the empty café and heard Creed's voice, amid the sounds of shrieks and splashing, somewhere in the back. _Oh God. He's drowning the brat!_

Rushing through the door, down a short hall and into a utility room, River skidded to a halt and stared at a shirtless and soaking wet Creed as he struggled to keep some 40 lbs of small child from slipping his grasp. Soap covered both child and man, and both were giggling like little maniacs. "Hey. I told you I was ticklish there!"

"Tickle! Tickle!"

With a sigh of relief, River came up to the pair. "HEY!" Now that wasn't fair, getting double teamed. He wiped water from his face and put his hands on his hips. "Cut that out you two brats."

"Brat pack," Creed giggled, leaning over the sink and turning on the water, rinsing the boy off quickly. The child yelped at the chill. "Sorry, Doggie, but I don't know how hot you can take."

"Where's the towels? Looks to me like you both need a dry down."

Creed nodded. "Didn't think washing a baby was this messy." A bright eyed grin crossed his face. "Fun though."

"So I see." River took the kid from Creed and began drying the wriggling little menace while Creed emptied the sink and grabbed a towel for himself. As he did so River noted an odd patterning on his torso, an ever so faint discoloring of the skin that spread around the area of his belly and chest. Realizing Creed's left arm and shoulder were much the same color, River remembered what he'd been told about the nano-machines. "Where's Kevin?" he asked, deciding not to comment.

"Went for diapers - whatever those are. But _he_ was so messy I couldn't take the smell anymore. It was _nasty_."

"Baby poop is supposed to be nasty. What did you do with his clothes..." River found the plastic bag in the corner, looked in and winced. "Er... never mind. He's not wearing those again. They need to be fumigated. So you dumped him in the tub." River reflected that it was a good thing the lesson that 'hot' was bad for baby had already been learned or Creed might well have neglected that point too. Rubbing the kid dry, he noted the boy's blue lips and chattering teeth. "Next time - and I sincerely hope there won't _be_ a next one - go for lukewarm water, Creed."

Creed looked crestfallen and River grinned. "Don't sweat it. He seems to have liked it." Wrapping the kid up in a tablecloth, he stuck him under his arm and headed for the door. "C'mon. Let's get him out into the café. He can warm up in the sun."

"Like a blister?"

"Uh... only if you mean he'll run around." River gave Doggie a sharp look. "Don't you dare pee 'till we get something on that hind end, 'kay?"

Butter wouldn't have melted in Doggie's mouth.

oOo

Kevin watched as Creed chased after the kid put in his charge, both child and man giggling. _Like calls to like, I guess_. River jumping around a chair and narrowly missing grabbing the nearly naked child caused Kevin to add, _Case in point._ He sighed, hoping the police would have better luck locating the little boy's parents.

Creed leapt over a table, coming down lightly in front of Doggie and catching him up. The high pitched screech that resulted caused the man to pale and look from River to Kevin. "Did I hurt him?" he asked, worriedly.

"No." The voice was a stranger's and looking at the doorway Kevin saw an older man in a business suit standing there, expression both deeply relieved and aggravated. Behind him was a teenage girl who was looking rather sulkily aggravated with life and the universe. As all three men stared at him, he added, "That's the little wretch's way of saying he's happy."

"DADDY!"

Creed set Doggie down and the little boy ran at the man, to be plucked up and held over his father's head. "Rotten thing. Have you been causing trouble for these nice men? What happened to your clothes - did we make a mess?"

"See. I told you he'd be fine, Uncle Mark." The girl's protest elicited a sour look from the father and she continued, "I was going to come back as soon as I'd finished."

"After a movie, lunch with your boyfriend and a shopping trip." Doggie's father glared at the girl. "Honestly, Kitten. You had no idea if you were leaving him with someone who'd take care of a child or with a homicidal maniac."

Creed opened his mouth and Kevin moved, as fast as he could, to put his hand up in front of it. "Don't. Just don't say it." He looked at the boy's father, who was raising a brow. "Sir... He's obviously yours, but... could we see some ID?"

"Of course." A quick perusal of the man's wallet showed that he was Mark Spencer, an office manager. More importantly, many, many pictures of Doggie with him and with an older, heavy-set woman, confirmed that this was Doggie's father. "We're sorry about his clothes. I'm afraid he made a mess."

Long-sufferingly, the older man grimaced. "I believe that. Kitten. Go get the clothes. We're going home and you can explain to Sera exactly how it was you came to leave our baby with total strangers."

The sulky look got sulkier and the girl started to protest, only to stop at the expression on her uncle's face. She took the bag Creed handed her and marched out the door in a huff. Her uncle followed, carrying his baby, then paused at the doorway. "I'll be sending you a thank-you note, young men. I really appreciate your taking care of Dougie here." He bowed slightly, turned and left.

* * *

"You're a trouble magnet, that's what you are." Train shook his head, looking at his dejected housemate. With a laugh, he finally reached out and rubbed the top of Creed's head with his fist. "But you didn't do much wrong."

"It... could have been much worse. There's so many things I could have messed up." Dark eyes rose to meet Train's and a small, wistful, smile crossed Creed's face. "I wish I could really _feel_ it."

That was confusing, and Train said as much. Bleakly, Creed continued, shoving a hand through his pale hair. "I know I mustn't hurt anyone. I know it's not good. But it's all up here... not here." He touched his forehead, then his chest. "So I have to depend on a damaged organ to keep me out of trouble. I don't have the right instincts."

Grabbing a chair, Train turned it backwards and sat on it in front of Creed. "Y'know. I don't know that I would have done better." He returned Creed's startled expression with a wry one of his own. "I don't know kids at all. Didn't have any around me for most of my life. So I never learned stuff like that. I probably wouldn't have kept the kid away from a stove."

"Kevin..."

With a sigh, Train flicked Creed in the middle of the forehead with his forefinger. "Kevin, I think, has little brothers or sisters. He knows what kind of trouble a kid can get into. We don't. So we're not the sort of people anyone should be leaving kids with. And you can uncross your eyes now. I'm done."

Creed let his eyes relax from their effort to see where Train's finger had poked him and sighed, nodding slowly. "I suppose I understand."

"As for what's in there and there... You do your best and your best _is_ damned good, especially considering the hurdle it has to get over." He got up. "Now, you ready to come home and fix supper?"

Creed nodded and made his farewells to Annette and the others before heading for the door. Following suit, Train watched his friend with a smug smile. No, he wasn't normal, but he _did_ try and he _wanted_ to do right, even if he didn't understand what right was. _That has to be worth something,_ he thought, and decided it was.

To Be Continued...


	48. Intermezzo: Chronos 48

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

Intermezzo: Chronos

_October 12, 2004 _  
"You cannot possibly be serious about this."

"I'm afraid I am, ma'am."

"He's the enemy. Or he was."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And still you say..."

"I'm afraid so, ma'am."

Sephiria gazed at the youngest of her Numbers with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Xiao Li. We all know you're... ah..."

"Queerer than an American two dollar bill." Xiao Li grinned at Sephiria's expression and added, "Which is to say, more than slightly odd but not entirely so."

There were times when Sephiria wondered why she bothered trying to understand Number X. This was most certainly one of them. "The point is, are you sure this... attraction... isn't just physical? Creed was never particularly ugly and - these days - he's gotten prettier." It wasn't the sort of prettiness that Sephiria appreciated, of course. _The prettiness of a little girl._ She said as much.

"Say rather that he's not particularly macho," Xiao Li disagreed. "He's getting stronger inside, though." He shrugged. "In any case, I wanted to tell you because I'd rather you heard it from me. I have no intention of acting on it. Creed wouldn't be interested and it would create too many complications."

That had to be the understatement of the month, if not the year. Sephiria knew that Train's feelings towards Creed were that of a protective older brother, not a lover. Yet even that much sentiment would be enough to make him worry if Xiao Li - God forbid - started courting Creed. "I tell you what. I'll send you on a mission for a month or so. If you still feel the same way when you get back... we'll deal with it. Maybe cut your guard time in half, so as to lessen the interaction."

"A Number should still be watching him, though," Xiao Li noted thoughtfully. "Lugado Wong is still at large."

"Wong is not my only concern. All the signs point to Creed being entirely under Train's thumb these days but I have no intention of risking any more errors with that man." Sephiria had had to talk entirely too fast to keep the Masters from ordering everyone in Train's household summarily executed. If she was to keep things that way she would have to make certain there was no chance - whatsoever - of Creed turning on everyone.

"Let's see. Balder and Krantz would be a bad idea. Naizer... possibly, but I have him on a training mission with our new number Eleven..." She made a sour face. Beluga's replacement wasn't her choice but that of the Third Elder. Sephiria hadn't had a lot of time to talk to Anastasia but what little contact she _had_ had told her the younger woman was going to be a challenge to keep under control.

_Not to mention keeping her from blowing Janos' head off for getting too personal._ They'd had to send the new Number Nine off to train with Naizer only because the other member of Cereberos' immediate response to an attractive female partner involved cheerful wolf whistles and suggestions of intimacy that had nearly sent Anastasia into a killing rage.

As Xiao Li was offering no suggestions, Sephiria considered the matter a moment or so more. Really the only one free for the next couple of months was... "Janos."

To Be Continued...


	49. Who Babysits the Babysitter

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

Who Babysits the Babysitter?

_October 13, 2004  
Yawn._ "Bored."

"I got that impression." Creed gave his companion an amused look as he hung up a shirt. "How does Sven manage to get so many wrinkles in his clothing?" he complained bitterly. "I iron and iron and it never does any good. I'd swear it wrinkles just hanging up."

Janos leaned back in his chair and stuck his feet up on Sven's computer desk, then removed them quickly at Creed's raised brow. "Have you tried starch?"

"He yelled at me the one time I tried," Creed grumbled. "Says it makes things too uncomfortable."

A snort of laughter escaped Janos' lips. "It chafes?" Creed couldn't help but giggle at that. "To tell the truth, though, I think it's part of the image he likes to project." Janos shrugged. "How much longer you gonna be, by the way? Now mind you, I can't think of anything more pleasant than watching you play house, but..."

Creed glanced at the basket of laundry. "Another ten minutes. There's another load in the dryer." He sighed. "I'm sorry to be so boring. Surely you were warned..."

"Yeah, I was warned." Janos cocked his head and made a face as he quoted, "No bars. No girls. No Rinslet. No _fun_. The only thing I'm supposed to do is keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble." He folded his arms across his chest and snorted irritably, causing Creed to giggle. "What?"

The humor of the situation was inescapable. "You sound like a teenage boy left to mind his baby brother." Before Janos could demand what he based the idea on, Creed added, "In the movies, I mean."

There was a long silence as Creed finished putting away the socks. Then Janos sighed. "Yeah, I guess so." An odd light flickered in his dark eyes. "Movies. We can't get in trouble at the movies, can we?" He eyed Creed. "And no one said anything about not doing that, right?"

Creed smiled happily. "That sounds like fun, Janos."

oOoOoOo

"Wow."

Janos glanced at his companion and raised a brow. "When did they let you watch Fifth Element, Creed?"

Dark eyes went wide and innocent. "That was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... I mean, it came out before Train swept me off my feet and took me away from all that." Janos couldn't help but snigger, especially when he contemplated what Train's expression would be if he heard Creed describe his capture that way.

Still, Janos had to admit that the scene was well worth a 'wow' or so. Their hostess hadn't missed a trick for the movie marathon she was hosting. The lobby of the new opera house was filled with greenery, with structures of carved white stone scattered amid the faux forest. Actors dressed as elves and orcs and hobbits were wandering among the spectators, as were various birds and other wildlife. _Such as this annoyance._ Janos glared down at the goat whose fused horns gave it the appearance of a dwarf unicorn. "Hey, you! You with the face," he growled. "Keep your teeth to yourself. These pants are expensive. Go on. Shoo! Since when did 'Lord of the Rings' have unicorns anyway?"

"I think it's just the general fantasy idea," Creed murmured as the goat wandered off. "Madame Freesia may not know as much about the books as you do. Oh, look, they're starting to seat everyone."

Janos nodded and headed for the entrance to the theatre. This was going to be fun.

oOoOo

As the last notes of the film died away, Creed gazed upwards at the ceiling contentedly. Admittedly, nine or so hours of a marathon showing of an epic trilogy was an exhausting experience but he was feeling smugly pleased with himself. He'd made it through with the minimum of emotional disturbance and while he currently longed for a sword in his hand and a dragon to slay, most of him understood that he wasn't going to get to do so.

Noticing Janos shifting uncomfortably, Creed rose to his feet. "Sorry. Gotta potty 'mergency?" At the Chronos Number's rolled eyes, he smiled apologetically. "Uh, silly question." There'd been breaks during the film, one about every hour and a half, but there were only so many washrooms and far too many others with the same need.

This time, though, they were lucky and got to the line before most of the others. In and out in record time, giving them a chance to explore the area before heading for the grand buffet Madame Freesia had provided for her guests. "I still don't like that scene in the middle," Janos grumbled as they wandered. "Aragorn getting saved by his horse. Give me a break." Creed wasn't particularly surprised that a man who named his signature weapon after an obscure character from the novels would be annoyed at some of the liberties the director had taken with them.

Still, he had to protest, "It's true that the whole thing _isn't_ part of the books, but Tolkien didn't put much romance into them. If Jackson hadn't put those scenes in, Arwen wouldn't have much to do in the second film..." He was about to continue when a roar echoed down one hallway. "What?"

Before Creed could stop him, Janos was rushing towards the noise.

oOo

Skidding to a halt, Janos stared up. And up. And far too high up. Into fangs and red tinted eyes set in a monstrous face. Short arms with huge claws waved above his head, narrowly missing him as he ducked back from the balcony rail. "What the..." Behind him, he heard Creed gasp as well and it suddenly occurred to him that his impetuous rush was an error in judgment.

"Oh. So that's what the Doctor was working on a while back," Creed said, voice fascinated.

"He made that? It's nano-machines? Like your arm?" Janos asked, gazing at the tyrannosaur and slowly backing away. _No food here, big guy. Nothing but us... uhm... ents. Yeah, that's the ticket. Really small _ents.

"Flora baby. Come to mommy. Leave those nice men alone. You're scaring them." The speaker was an older woman with a hair style straight out of Bride of Frankenstein. Dress as ugly as sin and face twice as much so. She was standing at the other end of the balcony, reaching out to the monster. "I'm sorry, sir, I just can't leave her at home. She pines."

Flora, if that was the thing's name, turned at the sound of the woman's voice and to Janos' amazement, made a noise that, in a smaller animal, would have been a whine. From Flora it was rather like having a car screeching its brakes right in one's ear. The huge head lowered slightly and pressed itself against the woman's hand. "Good baby," she crooned. "My darling Flora."

Janos glanced at Creed, who was looking up at the monster with an interested expression. "This is surreal," he muttered. "What the hell did that Doctor of yours do?"

The madman's tone was slightly offended. "Doctor isn't _mine_," Creed grumbled back. "Even when I led the Hoshi he did what he wanted to do. We all did." He eyed the creature consideringly. "And Doctor didn't create her. Madame Freesia hired him to do something about her... personality."

The monster's owner was feeding the tyrannosaur a large turkey - imported from America, no doubt - and scratching behind its tiny eyes. The ecstatic noises the creature made were impressive. Creed continued, tone odd, "I think he did things that removed her ability to be violent. She can't protect herself. Can't feed herself. She's entirely dependent on Madame Freesia." The lady in question nodded agreement, stroking her pet's eye ridge.

It was rare for Janos to have much in the way of insights but he had one right then that caused him to glance Creed's way. "Otherwise she'd have to die, right? Like you?"

oOo

Surprised to find Janos, of all people, picking up on subtle nuances, Creed smiled. "Well, yes," he agreed and cocked his head at the tyrannosaur, "But she seems happy, at least." He eyed the animal's owner, who was tenderly ministering to Flora's teeth, carefully pulling out the feathers that had gotten stuck there and crooning gently to her pet. "I don't think we need to be here," he told Janos, who nodded.

The two men turned to head for the door, only to come to a halt at the sound of gunfire and slamming doors. Creed turned back towards Flora's chamber and blinked. Down below a group of soldiers had broken into the room and were forming a semi-circle near the huge doors. Creed had never seen these particular uniforms before - black fatigues and red ski masks - but Janos made a startled sound of recognition. "Rosenkaveliers?" he said incredulously. "What the hell are they doing here?"

Twenty automatic rifles raised and Creed froze solid. He hated guns, aside from Train's, of course. He especially hated guns being aimed at him. "Rosenkaveliers?" he asked Janos bemusedly. "Knights of the Rose? Isn't that from Legend of the Galactic Heroes?" Their costumes were similar to those in that show, though, almost startlingly so. Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd let the media affect their style.

"I don't watch that stuff. They started showing up recently, causing trouble for Chronos." Janos eyed the group consideringly, obviously trying to decide exactly when and where to attack. "Let's get out of here, Creed."

"You're not going anywhere," one of the men said, his voice sounding altered somehow. "Stay where you are." He gestured at some of his men, who approached Flora slowly, cautiously. "Madame Freesia, we claim this animal in the name of the Rose. Give us the control device."

oOo

_Now why in the hell do they want a twenty ton lump of muscle and bone? Especially one that's been castrated..._ It occurred to Janos that, Flora being a female, the term was a misnomer, but at least _he_ knew what he meant. He stayed quiet, though, watching the scene and waiting for a moment. He had no particular reason to protect the monster from these people, after all.

Madame Freesia shook her head. "You can't," she gasped. "Flora's helpless. She can't do anything." As if to prove her point, the dinosaur was cowering from the Rosenkaveliers, making little whining sounds of fear.

"That will change. Whatever means you use to control her will be altered." The leader raised his rifle and aimed it at the woman. "The rest is of no concern to you. Now. The device."

Beside Janos, Creed was shaking. "We can't let them," he whispered. "Janos we have to stop them."

Glancing at his companion, Janos shook his head. "We can't do anything," he answered, a trifle regretfully. He'd have enjoyed the fight, certainly, but Creed would be in trouble if he got involved.

"I don't _have_ a control device," Madame Freesia protested. "She's been altered, made safe. She can't hurt a fly. Leave her alone!"

The leader was laughing. "You expect me to believe that?" he demanded. "A monster like this couldn't be controlled without outside intervention." He gestured at his men, who were cautiously working their way around the room. Behind him, a large tank was slowly pulling a flatbed trailer into place. "The device, Madame Freesia!"

As the old woman continued protesting, Janos eyed the hallway behind him, wondering if this was a good moment to make a break for it. Then he saw Creed's face and paused, startled. "Hey. Wait a minute." Creed's expression was determined, his eyes intent on the Rosenkaveliers below them.

"No." Creed's tone had shifted, hardened in a familiar way. "We're stopping them." It took Janos a moment to realize exactly who the man sounded like and he rather suspected neither Sephiria nor Creed would appreciate the comparison. Before Janos could protest, could point out that this would get Creed in trouble, the pale-haired man added, "They're Chronos' enemies, right? Do you plan on letting them take something they intend to use as a weapon without so much as lifting a finger to stop them?"

oOo

Adrenaline was pouring through Creed's system, nearly pushing him into overdrive all by itself. Determination and months of practice were the only things that kept him from dropping entirely into the state of mind he used to fall into when he'd worked for Chronos. It was a balancing act, an effort of will that was - to his astonishment - easier than it had ever been before. At its base was the total understanding that while he couldn't kill, or permanently damage these people he _could_ do something. That he had to. Because it was what Train would do.

Scanning the area, he counted a good fifty Rosenkaveliers. They were focused on the tyrannosaurus, sensibly so because even terrified, Flora was still big enough and clumsy enough to be a danger. That and he suspected their confidence in Doctor's work wasn't as great as his own.

The biggest danger was the tank and Creed was fairly sure they couldn't fire the thing's cannon in this enclosed space. "Besides," Creed added to Janos by way of encouragement, "They aren't going to leave witnesses." He glanced over his shoulder down the hallway. Four men were sneaking towards them, weapons ready.

With a sigh, Janos nodded, pulling his glove out from his pocket. "Yeah, point taken." His hand moved sharply, sending fine threads scattering through the hall. Creed turned from that and focused his thoughts on his Imagine Blade, leaping over the balcony and down into to larger room.

oOo

Janos wasn't sure why he was cooperating. He _ought_ to have simply cleared the way for escape and made a run for it with Creed. His charge's run, straight for the center of the danger, would have prevented him from doing so, but he would later admit that even if Creed had waited for him he would - probably - have continued fighting. There was just something incredibly convincing about the man's insistence.

The four men in the hallway were easily taken care of. Had they been in Chronos territory he would have killed them out of hand, but the rules were a bit more complicated here. Sephiria had given orders that her agents were to avoid fatalities. It upset the authorities and weakened the delicate negotiations that permitted Chronos to operate here at all. _Besides, they could have important information._

Choking his opponents into unconsciousness took a delicate control on his threads and more time than simply chopping them into tiny pieces. Thus Janos didn't get a chance to back Creed up for several minutes. When he _did_ turn it was to find Creed running along the wall evading a hail of bullets. A number of Rosenkaveliers were down for the count behind him.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Leave some for me!"

"Then hurry up! I've gotten eight of them already," Creed shouted back, flipping over a group that was trying to work its way into position. His Imagine Blade was at Level Two again, laughing happily as it knocked the terrorists away. The sight gave Janos a momentary flashback to the day he'd cut off Creed's left arm, when the sword had first manifested itself. The howling horror was on his side this time, though, so he simply leapt over the railing and landed on a couple of the enemy, knocking them out.

"Five," he counted. "Six. Seven. Eight"

"Twelve. Thirteen That's a good number."

Janos grimaced. "You're just obsessed, Creed," he shouted back. "Nine. Ten."

"Sixteen." Creed dodged Flora, who was trying her hardest to make herself into a tiny ball in one corner. "Whoops. Sorry, girl."

Lashing out, using the threads of his glove to dice the tank cannon and rip the housing free, Janos leapt up to kick the driver in the jaw. As he flipped off and landed near to where Creed and his entirely too happy Imagine Blade was leaping and dodging another knot of men, the pale-haired man glanced his way. "That still only counts as one."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever Look out!" They scattered as a hail of bullets fired past them. "Twelve," Janos added, "Thirteen, fourteen NINETEEN!" The last was a triumphant shout because he'd used one of the soldiers as a battering ram for the others, knocking all five out in one blow. "Bowling for Rosenkaveliers!"

His joke was ignored and Janos glanced behind him, about to repeat himself when he realized that Creed was standing very, _very_ still. His pale shirt was torn and bloody where he'd been hit. _Oh damn!_ "WHY THE HELL DIDN"T YOU MOVE?" he shouted, rushing at Creed, only to stop as the man's entire body shuddered and his right arm began to shimmer.

oOo

"They would have hit _you_, otherwise," Creed explained to Janos sensibly. He felt lightheaded. A peculiar double vision was forming and he steadied himself, pressing his claws into the floor to keep the rest of his body upright. _Claws_? He stared down at himself, at his shredded shirt and bullet ridden chest. A normal human would have been dead, he realized, dazedly.

Of course, normal humans didn't have _tao_ and didn't have nano-machines. Normal humans wouldn't have their arms turn into gigantic swords that covered most of their upper biceps, with eyes where the hilt would be. Normal humans wouldn't have their shoulders turn into a mass of spikes. From the feel of it, the rest of the sword was wrapped around his back, supporting the gigantic arm that extended over his left shoulder. "Oh wow. So this is Level Three."

Everyone, including the enemy, was staring at him, but it was Janos who broke the silence. "Level Two was bad enough, Creed. You're a sick puppy." Looking at the result of his weapon's latest power-up, Creed had to agree. "Uh You okay?"

"What's the matter, Janos? Afraid I'll go all ballistic on you again?" Creed couldn't help asking as he turned to look at the remaining Rosenkaveliers. They were backing away from him, posture showing just how scared they were of what he'd become. Nor could he blame them because he was feeling pretty scared himself. "Don't worry. I'm in control. Trust me." He had to stay in control, had to do this right. No matter how hard it might be, he had to keep his faith with Train. _I have to. And I **will**_

"Trust him, he says." Janos eyed Creed with an expression that mixed disgust with a kind of bemused humor. "Can you fight with that thing?"

Creed wasn't entirely sure, but he nodded anyway. The sword, the entire attachment to his body felt like a part of him, as natural as breathing. Fortunately, he'd always been quick to adjust to physical states, if not to mental ones. It was simply a matter of extending those quick reflexes to the situation. As long as he didn't try to think about it too hard he'd be all right. He hoped.

Some of the Rosenkaveliers were recovering their equilibrium, possibly owing to the length of time it was taking Creed to react to anything except his new status. Their body language warned him that they were about to make a move and he responded immediately, his new arm coming up over his head and slamming down onto the ground in front of him. He somersaulted, thrown high in the air by the force of his new arm's blow. Twisting in mid-air, spinning as he went, he hit the wall feet first.

The metal wall felt like stiff clay to Creed's new fingers and he dug his claws in deep to keep himself from falling, then flexed his arm and back support to swing himself into the air. His right arm/sword flashed as it swiped thru the ranks of the nearest Rosenkaveliers, dull side first. No matter how exciting this was, he had to keep control of himself. "Twenty one!"

oOo

It took Janos a moment or so to get himself moving again, sheer awe at Creed's new toy having distracted him. _No. More like shock. What goes _on_ in that head of his?_ Janos didn't know a lot about _tao_ or about nano-machines but he had long since figured out that Creed shaped both with his mind. Level Three Imagine Blade looked like something out of a nightmare.

Realizing he was being snuck up on, Janos used his elbow to crunch the nose bones of the closest man, then buried his foot into the chest of the second. "We're even," he shouted, "Twenty-one each!" Which left, he noted, eight men. None of whom were the leader. A quick scan of the room found the man in question sprawled on the ground, unconscious. One of Creed's count, since most of Janos' victims were wearing very little in the way of clothing after the threads of Ecthelion got through with them. He'd have to remember to thank Creed for that idea sometime.

_Seems they don't freak out when their leader's taken out._ That was something Janos was going to have to make sure Sephiria knew. It meant their enemy was well trained and as determined as any Chronos agent.

Creed's extra arm had picked up a Rosenkavelier in the second or so that Janos had spent searching out the leader. It very gently, with almost maternal care, hung the man up on a bit of bent metal from the balcony, leaving the Rosenkavelier to swing wildly a good fifteen feet in the air. Janos shook his head and grabbed another soldier, using his threads to throw the man over his shoulder and into the wall. Six left.

Spinning, more thread slashing out and cutting weaponry into tiny pieces, Janos ran up the nearest wall and somersaulted over two more Rosenkaveliers. Then he ran around the pair, wrapping the threads around them. That was the nice thing about his weapon. Unlike - say - Balder, he could control the amount of force the threads contained and stop short of doing any real damage if he chose. _Then again, Balder probably could, too, if he wanted. Man's a bloodthirsty maniac._

The four men left came to a halt as they realized that they were now in serious trouble. Janos could almost hear them thinking 'These two just took out most of our team.' They might, just might, have tried to fight it out even so had it not been for Creed's Imagine Blade. Janos wasn't sure _he'd_ have stuck around under the circumstances.

He who hesitates is lost, however, and the four men didn't decide to run quite fast enough. Behind them, Creed's bladed arm swept low, even as Janos' gloved hand lashed out high, forcing them backwards and into Creed's attack. In moments the four had tumbled to the ground, knocked cold by the force of the blow.

oOoOoOo

_October 15, 2004 _

"WHAT IN THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"

Creed stared at Train, seeing the way his friend's fist tightened and certain that he was about to get hit. He'd known Train would be upset, but he hadn't thought his Cat would be _this_ furious. "I But" From the side, Janos opened his mouth to protest, only to shut up quickly at the look Train gave him.

Sven sneezed. Sneezed again. Between the third and fourth sneezes he managed to protest, "I don't think you're being fair, Train." A whole series of sneezes followed, forcing him to sit down on the couch and bury his face in the fresh handkerchief Eve handed him. Around him, the masses of flowers that Madame Fresia had been sending them for the last two days bobbed agitatedly with the force of his sneezes. "Drat that woman, anyway. At least last time we were on the move and she didn't have a target for her affections."

Creed wanted to say something about the breath of flowers but managed to swallow the quote back before he opened his mouth. Train was still glaring at him, even as he growled, "You stay out of this, Sven. He's my responsibility." Creed trembled at Train's tone, the closest he'd been to tears in months. He wanted to run and hide. He wouldn't.

With a shrug that Creed couldn't quite translate, Sven picked up several buckets of flowers and gestured for Eve to follow him. "Your funeral, then."

Once the pair had left the room, Train returned to the attack. "Damn it. I told you to stay out of trouble!"

Creed wasn't sure if he was angry, anguished or simply hurt. Whichever it was, though, despite the tears threatening to overwhelm him, despite the fear that he was about to screw up mightily, he could _not_ stay silent. "GODDAMNIT TRAIN, I CAN'T WIN, CAN I?"

The reaction startled Train into silence and somehow Creed managed to force his voice back down to a more normal tone. "You would have done it. You would have stopped them. Why is it okay for _you_ to do something and it isn't okay for me? I didn't kill anyone. I barely hurt them. _What did I do that was so wrong_?"

oOo

Train stared into his friend's wide black eyes, feeling rather like a parent must who was just discovering that their child had a mind and will and ideas of their own. The worse of it was, "You're right."

Startled, Creed halted. Shook his head. "No. Wait. What?" His expression said that he simply couldn't believe Train had agreed with him. "I can't be." His voice was small, scared. His entire world view was being turned upside down, Train realized as he hoped that he was doing the right thing.

"Yes. You can." Train looked at Janos who shrugged, obviously not going to help with this. "You can be right and this time you are." He sighed. "Look. All this time I've been teaching you that it's good to help people. That it's good to protect someone who can't protect themselves. So I can't complain when you take that lesson to heart."

Creed was still shaking his head, still unable to believe, or accept that Train was capable of being wrong - even when every internal instinct must be saying otherwise. "Listen. I was scared. If you go off on your own, if you make decisions on your own, I'm afraid that someday that decision might be the wrong one. But this time it wasn't. I _would_ have defended Flora, just like you did. I would have used anything and everything in my power to stop those Rosenkaveliers from taking her - without killing them, of course.."

"Train I"

"I can't expect you not to make decisions, Creed. You've been getting better. You're certainly a lot more trustworthy than you used to be." Train sighed, "You didn't hurt anyone. Even with your Imagine Blade at Level 3, you didn't hurt anyone. I'd be happier, I admit, if you never, _ever_, had such an opportunity again but you _are_ a trouble magnet. It's going to happen." He reached out, touched Creed's shoulder, saw the pain and hurt still welling in the man's eyes. "I'm sorry, Creed. I was wrong to yell at you. Do you need a noogie to make you feel better?"

Creed sniffled, eyes slowly quieting. "A noogie isn't what I _need_, he said finally, looking into Train's eyes with that expression that mixed fear and adoration and never failed to unnerve Train with its desperate neediness. Except, this time it made Train feel oddly ashamed and shaken. He'd hurt Creed, hurt him about the worst the man had been hurt since he'd moved in with them. "But it's a good substitute."

Managing a smile and knowing he was going to have to find a way to make up for this, Train put his arm over Creed's neck and scrubbed a hand through fine white hair.

To Be Continued...


	50. No Fun Like Snow Fun

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_No Fun Like Snow Fun_**

_December 15, 2004 _

"Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh,"

"O'er the fields we go, laughing all the way."

"Bells on bob-tails ring, making spirits bright,"

Three voices caroled as the decorations went up. Sven's cheerful baritone, Eve's sweet and slightly bemused contralto and Train - as was typical of him - wandering all over the scale.

"What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight." The fourth voice joining in caused the others to pause, staring at the pale haired man who was standing at the door to the kitchen, stirring something in a copper bowl. That his voice was sweet and perfectly pitched, if somewhat high for a man's, was no surprise. That he was singing at all, however, was. With a shrug for each other, though, the others returned to singing, all four voices joining together in chorus;

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!

O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!

O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh."

The song ended and as a new one began, Creed blinked and continued, "Deck us all with Boston Charlie, Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo! Nora's freezin' on the trolley, Swaller dollar cauliflower alley'garoo!" The nonsense continued until, at last - Sven and Train giggling on the floor and Eve staring blankly at the three of them - the music changed to an orchestration. Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Sven grinned at their housemate. "I don't even want to know where you got a hold of Pogo, but you're awfully cheerful."

Creed smiled back. "Well, now that Christmas isn't all I get..." He paused, looked a bit worried. "It isn't... is it?"

"Of course not," Train said reassuringly.

Sven nodded in agreement. He may not have fully understood why having a birthday distinct from Christmas meant so much to Creed but he could tell that it did. "Though... is it okay to celebrate on the day after? That way we don't have to tear everything down and put it back up. Or we could have Christmas on Christmas Eve and your birthday on the day."

Dark eyes went distant as Creed thought about the best way to go about it. "Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow," he muttered thoughtfully and Sven waited as patiently as he could for Creed to work his way over to a real answer. At last Creed smiled. "After." He stopped there, obviously with an effort.

_I'll give him this much,_ Sven thought to himself, _he's getting better at controlling the odd-ball commentary_. He leaned down, picking up the fireplace poker so he could stir the fire a bit, only to gasp in pain as he accidentally touched hot metal.

"Some like it hot?" Creed asked as Eve hurried over to Sven's side. "Or are you sweating?"

_I take that back. He's still got the touch,_ Sven sighed, shaking his hand ruefully. "How about you decide that you can't go on?" he suggested. "Damn. That hurt." Fortunately there was no burn. He had Creed to thank for that. Now that his skin was pretty well entirely formed of medical nano-machines, simple external damage was no longer a real problem. Itching, on the other hand.

Eve shook her head at him. "I wish you'd let me teach you to control the nano-machines. You could have protected your hand from that."

.oOo.

As Sven grumbled over his 'injury' and Eve's mothering him, Creed headed back into the kitchen happily. He was drifting lightly over the mental landscape but one of the biggest worries he'd had was relieved, turned to confidence that something important to him hadn't been forgotten. _Or, worse, dismissed as meaningless._

Whistling softly, Creed got the cookies baking and began cleaning up, pausing momentarily to smack Train's hand when he snitched a bit of cookie dough from the bowl. "Stop that."

Train grinned and Creed had to fight down an urge to melt all over. "Awww, c'mon, Creed. Snitching the cookie dough is part of the fun!"

"I don't think it's good for you, though, with all those raw eggs."

Train reached past him as he tried to keep his Cat out of the food. A dodge, a twist and a feint later and Train had gotten yet another scoop onto his finger and had it in his mouth before Creed could protest. His triumphant look made Creed stop, staring at him with widened eyes as the other man added, "Also part of the fun."

The sulky look Creed put on obviously didn't fool his beloved at all. Train laughed as he sucked the last bit of dough off his finger. The ecstatic look on his face made Creed feel a peculiar surge of happiness and he had to fight down the urge to say as much, taking refuge in mock annoyance. "Hmph. Get out of the kitchen. It'll be ready when it's ready."

"Going to have to work on your delivery, Creed. That's not nearly annoying enough to chase _me _out." Train dodged the towel Creed used to swat at him, jumping over the table. "Hah! Not fast enough, Creed. Try again, this time with feeling."

"Don't _tempt_ me, Train," Creed grumbled. He felt strange and he was beginning to realize that this game could end up going further than was safe for either of them. As Train reached past him the fear surged up and he forced himself to breathe. "Train, please. Not now." He wanted to play, but it scared him too, stirring up feelings he wasn't prepared to deal with. Train kept getting too close, the scent of him combining with the scent of the cookies to send Creed into a bewildered spiral of unidentifiable emotions.

Train paused, seemed to see the real concern in Creed's eyes and smiled wryly. "Sorry. You okay?"

After a moment Creed managed a nod. Before he could answer, Eve stuck her head in the door. "Train, you promised to help Sven with the driveway. Sephiria's due in an hour and you don't want her slipping on all that ice, do you? Besides, it looks like it might snow again any minute."

Train sighed, snatched one more bit of cookie dough from the bowl, dodged Creed's slap and ran out the back door.

.oOo.

"Ouch. Dunno why we have to do this," Train muttered, rubbing his back. "Sephiria's tough. She can handle a bit of ice."

Sven glared at him from under his winter hat. "Yeah. Shall I tell her that you said that when she takes a header?"

With a muttered imprecation for snow, ice and all the associated troubles, Train shook his head. "Wish I knew why she was coming over in the first place. She was awfully mysterious on the phone."

"Probably has a job she wants you to do. You make sure you make a proper deal with her. No discounts for old bosses this time." Sven sneezed, glared at the snow slowly falling around them and sighed. "Damn. I think I'm catching a cold."

Looking at his partner, Train considered Sven's appearance. "You know, you don't look so good. Why don't you go in and get something hot to drink? We're almost done anyway." As Sven nodded and headed towards the house, Train frowned. _Hope he isn't coming down with something. That's all we'd need is one of us getting sick. Nah. Those nano-machines Creed gave him will probably help keep him healthy. I don't think I've ever seen Creed sick, aside from self-inflicted illness, that is._

A faint sweet taste in his mouth - from a bit of chocolate that had been stuck in a corner of his mouth choosing this moment to melt - reminded Train of his sparring match with his housemate and he grinned reminiscently. The expressions that had crossed Creed's face had been hilarious. Aggravation, confusion and the usual dose of absolute adoration. Train wondered what it had been, though, that had stressed Creed somewhat over their play.

_Speak of the devil._ Creed was coming around the corner, dressed only in his light blue shirt and dark blue silk pants and carrying a steaming cup of something._ I don't know how he stays warm out here._ Of course Creed had always tended to ignore the weather. Train had never been sure if this was out of some sense of machismo or if Creed simply didn't care. With Creed it could have been either - he wasn't all that masculine in his behavior but even he had a certain level of what Eve called testosterone poisoning.

"I thought you might want this," Creed said, handing Train the cup. The scent of hot and savory chicken soup rose to Train's nostrils and he grinned, sipping at the liquid gratefully. Sven might be coming down with a cold but Train was feeling chilled himself. Not that he'd admit it.

"Oh look! How beautiful..." Train puzzled over Creed's exclamation for a moment, then realized that his friend was looking at the falling snow with all the wonder of a child.

.oOo.

_So quiet. So lovely._ Creed stared up at the sky, wandering as aimlessly as the snow floating down in huge fluffy lumps. This was the kind of snow he loved best, one of the things he liked the most about winter, and he felt a surge of awe at the sheer beauty. The memory came to him, oddly poignant now, of staring out a barred window, watching large flakes drift past, free where he had not been. Dreamily, he spread his arms, closing his eyes and feeling the soft chill kiss his cheeks.

_It helps that it's cold, too. Don't know what made me feel so hot and uncomfortable earlier._ It hadn't been the kitchen's heat. He was used to that, after all. No, somehow that little bit of play fighting with Train had made him feel helpless and happy and utterly lost. He'd wanted more and feared to go further. _That was the first time he's done that sort of thing to me in years. _

Drifting off into reverie, wondering what - exactly - it had been that had set him off and what it was that he wanted, Creed didn't notice the snowball until it hit him in the face.

.oOo.

_Well now. That was unexpected._ Train stared at his housemate as he dropped backwards on his butt. Creed had never failed to dodge something so obvious before. When it came to that, even at his most confused and bewildered Creed's physical training made him a difficult prospect to sneak attack. Body instincts had - up until now - meant that he'd evade before thinking.

Going over to where Creed was sitting, Train knelt. "You okay?"

Creed stared at Train, dark eyes blinking from behind a thin layer of snow. "You hit me with a snowball," he said in a disbelieving tone.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I really thought you'd dodge."

"You. Hit. Me. With. A. Snowball."

Train shook his head. _Off in lala land... whoa!_ He dodged backwards as Creed's hand came up filled with snow. Both of them must have been off their feed though, because he didn't make it before he found himself with a matching white mask.

"Why you!" Train leapt at his housemate, tussling with him, the two men rolling in the snow bank, both struggling to come up on top. Train, with longer years of practice at this kind of horseplay tugged and twisted until he was sitting on Creed's chest, his housemate staring up at him with the strangest expression. "Had enough?"

Creed just gazed up, wide-eyed and unblinking, lips parted, breathing hard - his breath fogging the air between them. Train found himself unable to move either and had the oddest feeling that his own expression wasn't all that different from the deer in the headlights look he was getting from Creed. _What the hell?_

It felt so strange. Train had tussled this way with Sven, occasionally even with Eve, and never ever had it been like this. Even those - long ago - roughhousing sessions he'd initiated with Creed when they'd been partners weren't the same. A strange heat in his belly, an elation that made him both hot and cold at the same time. _Wow._ He sort of liked the feeling but it made him damned nervous too and he took refuge in his usual standards of behavior. "C'mon. Cry uncle or take another down your shirt!"

.oOo.

Creed could hardly breathe for the flurry of emotions racing through him. Another time, another Creed would have known for certain what was going on but that other Creed would - he was sure - be utterly wrong. It was amazing to him, sometimes, how readily his thoughts could be derailed into misconstruing his beloved's behavior.

Before Train could make good on his threat Creed stretched out his left hand and reshaped it into a scoop that grasped a good sized lump of snow and poured it on Train's head. As Train sputtered and gasped at the sudden cold, Creed rolled out from under him, paused long enough in a snow bank to flop on his back and rotate his arms and legs, yelling "SNOWANGELS!" Then he set off at a dead run around the back of the house.

Behind him Creed could hear Train's irate shout and he grinned. He was beginning to understand one thing. When you were feeling just a bit too much in the way of emotions it was a lot easier to deal with the problem with a certain amount of good-natured horseplay. _That's why the noogies feel so good, isn't it?_

A sense of self-preservation caused Creed to dodge. He was just in time as a snowball zinged past his ear. He paused only long enough to scoop up a lump of snow and spin around, tossing it at his beloved and watching him twist out of the way with his customary grace and skill. _I could watch him in action all day if he'd let me._ Train was just plain gorgeous. Laughing, seeing the laughter in Train's eyes, Creed took up the snowball fight with joyful abandon.

.oOo.

Sephiria sighed, looking at the house. There were times - very occasionally - when she wished she could live like Train. _I have so many responsibilities, though. I can't possibly desert my people the way he did._ She had always understood his wish for freedom but there was a certain, childish, part of her that was bothered by the fact that he had it when she couldn't.

_Never mind that, Sephiria. He would have been useless to us if we'd kept him. And he's performing a service for the world as it is, keeping that maniac, Creed Diskence, under control._ As if thinking of the man was enough to summon him, her former operative rounded the corner of the house, laughing that maniacal laugh of his. Pretty clothing all covered in snow, he was soaking wet and obviously having the time of his life.

Naizer moved, coming between the onrush of insane laughter and his leader. Sephiria watched with bemused eyes as the pale-haired man skidded to a halt, gave her and her companion a big manic grin and leaped up onto the roof of the house. At which point Train came running around the corner, as covered in snow as his ward. A second later Sephiria and Naizer were covered in snow as her guard blocked the Black Cat's attack, only to have the snowball explode all over them.

"Whoops! Sorry about that." Above them, Creed burst into howls of laughter and tumbled out of sight, much to Train's amusement. "WATCH THAT FIRST STEP, CREED!" he shouted.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Heartnet?" Naizer's howl of anger was enough to send snow cascading down off the nearby trees. He stopped as Sephiria put a hand on his arm. "But..."

"Go inside and dry off. I'll be all right." Sephiria wasn't sure she should follow through with the sudden impulse that had hit her but... _Well, what the hell? How often do I get to play?_ As Naizer grumbled and went in, Sephiria quietly picked up a handful of snow.

.oOo.

Eve blinked as she stared out the window. Sephiria was chasing Train around back, snow ball after snow ball narrowly missing her target. "Well now, that's different," Sven said, standing beside her. At the other window Naizer looked sourly. "Didn't think Sephiria had it in her."

"Miss Sephiria has many responsibilities," Naizer answered in a grim voice. "But that does not mean she is entirely without humor." From his expression, Eve thought he was both pleased that his leader was getting a chance to play and annoyed and worried because that play was with a man he had every reason to distrust. Once Sephiria had joined the snowball fight between Train and Creed the two men were ganging up on her, with occasional potshots at each other.

_Not that it seems to be a problem._ Sephiria was a fast mover with an excellent aim. She wasn't using her sword in this fight but her snowballs cut the air with deadly accuracy. If it were anyone other than Creed and Train her opponents would be down for the count by now. As it was, both men had quite a bit more snow on them than they had when they'd started. _Still..._ "It doesn't seem fair. Two against one."

"I shall go..." Naizer began.

Eve put a hand on his arm. "No, Mr. Blackheimer. I'll go." Giving Sven a frown in response to his amused expression she added, "It's a game, after all. You keep saying I should play more."

With a laugh, Sven nodded. "I do at that. Give it a rest, Naizer. No one's in any danger. I think we can leave it up to Eve to help Sephiria." He paused and added, "Girls against the guys. Not a fight _I_ would want to interfere with."

Eve made a disgusted little noise, even though she had to admit that that was much of her motivation. That it was Train, whom she seldom got the drop on and whom she wanted to challenge was the rest. _As Sven knows perfectly well._ She picked up her coat and put it on, pausing only long enough to tell Sven, "Get some towels and robes for us. We're going to be pretty wet when this is over." It didn't matter as much to her, but Sephiria didn't have any nano-machines to protect her.

.oOo.

The first Train realized that another had joined the game was when he was forced to dodge a shot that had come entirely out of left field. "Eve?"

"Miss Sephiria, it hardly seems fair for you to have to fight these two alone," Eve said, haughtily ignoring Train. He sighed. The old rivalry - never quite faded from Eve's personality after three years of companionship - was back. _It's not like any of us were working together. I don't know why she thinks it's ganging up._

Sephiria dodged a snowball thrown by Creed, glanced at Train then smiled, bowing slightly. "It would be my pleasure to have you join me, Princess."

"Oy. Creed!"

"Yes, Train?"

"Truce? We have a challenge here."

Creed bounced out of the trees, humming the Tigger song. "Challenge?" He eyed Sephiria and Eve. "Hohhhh. I see." His anticipatory grin was infectious. "All right. Rules?"

"No attempts to injure. First team to force the other off their territory wins." He pointed at two sections of the yard. At Creed's frown, he asked, "What?"

"Beneath the fallen snow..." He pointed and Train realized the rose garden was in the first corner he'd indicated.

Sephiria had a priceless look on her face but Train nodded with only the slightest sense of amusement. Creed had spent the entire summer trying to nurse those roses to health, with some measure of success. "Okay. There, then. Better?" At Creed's nod of agreement, Train glanced at the girls. "Well? Going to stand there all day?"

.oOo.

Creed blocked another snowball for Train. His aim wasn't nearly as good and - at least for this challenge - it was better for his Cat to handle offense while he defended.

"Hey, is that fair?" Train muttered and Creed realized that Eve was using her hair to block Train's attacks, allowing Sephiria to remain standing while she attacked. "Can _you_ do something like that?"

Creed shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, Train. I just don't have enough nano-machines in my hair." He paused, as something occurred to him, and his left hand reshaped into a ping pong paddle. He batted the oncoming snowballs into the woods. "The bases are loaded," he commented smiling.

"Wrong game, Creed, but that works. I'll figure out how to get Sephiria." Train looked consideringly at the field while he prepared another pile of snowballs and Creed defended. "Oh. I know. Creed, can you make your arm into a catapult?"

"What?" Creed blinked at his beloved, startled. "Oh. I see. I think I can." Eve was good and fast but her ability to multi-task wasn't perfect. He dodged Sephiria's next attack and turned so that his left arm wasn't readily visible, reshaping it the way he'd been asked.

The chill of the snow was, fortunately, not so bad against Creed's arm. Train was filling the catapult he'd created and normal flesh would have been frozen by now. Then Creed came up to a standing position and let loose, twenty or so snowballs flying fast and straight at Sephiria.

.oOo.

Eve did her best, but the speed and number of snowballs that she had to defend against was just a bit much for the girl. Forced to either dodge or take two in the face, the leader of the Chronos Numbers stepped out of the ring, leaving Eve to face their opponents alone.

Fortunately for her, Train was doing a victory dance and was distracted enough not to realize that having upped the ante by using Creed's ability that way he had, he'd given her an idea. Reaching out, her hair reshaping itself into a dozen or so hands, she scooped up more snowballs and returned the favor, each 'hand' scooping up more snow to add to the attack as it emptied itself.

"YAH!" Train's shout of dismay was music to Eve's ears. Particularly when it was followed up by the Black Cat being thrown backwards beneath a pile of snow. Her only disappointment was that Creed, who had - by some stroke of fortune - been recovering from the shape-shift, had simply dropped to his knees and huddled against all the snow being thrown at them. He was covered, yes, but he was also still at the center of his circle and - thus - still in the game.

Train poked a hand out of the snow and waved it weakly. "I surrender," he gasped. Eve ignored both him and Sephiria, however, waiting to see what Creed was going to do, raising an arm shaped like a shield to guard against his next attack.

.oOo.

Shaking snow off, Creed glanced at his beloved to make sure he was all right and saw a flash of white teeth. Train was grinning broadly, though in such a way that only he could see it and Creed smiled back in relief before turning to face Eve.

The two of them stared at each other for long moments, taking deep breaths, trying to decide how to handle the situation. Eve's shield, he thought, would be difficult to get past. _On the other hand, I don't think her hair can extend itself far enough to get a lot of snow now. She used most of it up on Train._ He quickly readjusted his thoughts as he realized that she was stretching her hair up into the trees behind her. _Aw, damn. I'm doomed._

The decision to go for it none the less came quickly and - in a rare moment of clarity - he had an idea of how to go about it. He knelt down, picking up a handful of snow and packing it tightly. _But not _too_ tightly,_ he reminded himself. The thing would have to survive long enough to hit her, of course, but the remnant couldn't damage his friend when it hit. "This is a hard pack," he told Eve. "Shouldn't be too bad, but..."

"You won't hit me."

"But..."

Before Creed could protest again, Eve's hair had gathered enough snow for an absolutely huge snowball and he realized what she was about to do. As it flew at him he threw his own snowball.

.oOo.

_What in the world is he doing?_ Sephiria watched the snowball fly, staring at its trajectory. There was no way it was going to hit Eve at that angle... _My god._ The snowball struck a tree branch behind Eve, bending the branch. A moment later it was flying again, straight for Eve's unprotected back. A lot of its momentum was lost but what remained was enough. It struck Eve between the shoulder blades and propelled out of the ring.

At the same time, however, Eve's gigantic snowball struck Creed and flung him backwards. He'd been forced to keep position for _his_ throw, leaving him wide open for the attack. _Looks like this one's a draw,_ Sephiria thought, going to Eve's side. "Are you hurt?"

"Just... my pride," Eve grumbled. "I should have realized he was up to something." She brightened up. "Still. I got Train good, didn't I?"

With a laugh, Sephiria agreed as she helped Eve get to her feet and brushed off some of the snow from the small girl. "It's a good thing he doesn't do that sort of thing on a job," she murmured. _Now that I think about it, though, he does. Everyone's usually so stunned at his horseplay they can't move before he quits and gets back down to business._ Eve, being used to that behavior and - quite likely - aggravated by it, was less likely to stand around staring at Train.

Glancing over at the other two, she noted that Train was helping Creed up and frowned. There was something very odd about the way Train was looking at Creed, and something about his expression that bothered her very much. Was he going to go soft on the man? If Train stopped paying attention to the dangers, was it possible that Creed would revert?

On the other hand, Creed's poignant little smile, while unnerving and not how she thought a man ought to look at another man, was enough to soothe her worries, particularly the ones that had brought her here. Xiao Li's reports had told her that he was becoming saner, better able to cope with the world than he had been. Sephiria had worried that - depending on what, exactly, coping meant - Creed might no longer be under Train's control. It was, she was beginning to realize, not yet a concern. Sanity for Creed didn't mean losing his feelings towards Train. If anything, they shone in his eyes with a brilliance that nearly blinded her.

_I'd call it romantic if it weren't for the fact that they're both men. That type of thing just isn't my cup of tea.._ Sephiria sighed, then sneezed. _And tea sounds really good right now. _

"Miss Sephiria, we should go in and get warm. I had Sven get us some robes and towels." Eve gestured at the house. Sephiria smiled and nodded in agreement. It was high time they stopped playing around.

.oOo.

"_You_ can dry up on the porch."

Train sighed as Eve tossed him and Creed a couple of towels and a robe each. Even in victory she was a hard wench sometimes. Admittedly, though, if she and Sephiria were changing in the kitchen then she had good reason to keep them out.

"Okay, Creed. Let's get..." Train turned and found himself looking at a stark naked Creed as the pale haired man dried himself off. _Damn. He's fast and he has no sense of bodily modesty. I keep forgetting that._ With a sigh, Train hurriedly pulled down the blinds they'd added to the enclosed porch to keep that particular tendency of Creed's from becoming too public. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

Creed blinked at Train from under his towel. "Do what?"

"Never mind. If you haven't gotten the point by now, I doubt you ever will." It was, Train thought, just another of those little things Creed did that proved that no matter how much better he was, he would never be completely well. _Or at least have enough sense to be out on his own._ He pulled off his shirt and rubbed himself dry before putting on a robe. _Dang. Should have put something warmer on before playing in the snow like that. I'm chilled._

"Drat." Looking up at Creed's exclamation, Train watched him lean over the couch bed to get something that had fallen behind. Long legs were stretching tight beneath his robe, the only thing keeping him from being an entire show, and Train felt - once again - that peculiar surge of heat.

Turning quickly around, Train hurriedly finished drying up and getting the robe on, trembling inside. He'd never ever felt this way before and it was just a bit scary. _I'm just not going to think about it,_ he decided. Whatever it was would - surely - go away soon enough.

"Train?" Creed's voice drew his attention and he glanced quickly to make sure his companion was dressed before turning. "Did I do a bad thing?"

"Eh?" Train puzzled that out. He was about to say that maybe Creed shouldn't run around buck naked but it occurred to him that that wasn't what was worrying his friend.

"I... used Saya's trick on Eve. Was that... Did I hurt your feelings? You're... acting strange." The soft, worried and plaintive tone made Train smile.

Putting a hand on Creed's shoulder, Train shook his head. "No. You did fine. I've used the trick myself. It's not like it's somehow an insult to her memory. I think she'd be glad to know her skills are still useful."

"_You_ didn't kill her, though." Creed's voice went smaller and softer, a little scared. "I'm... sorry. I was just so unhappy then. I didn't know what to do."

Train smiled, a bit sadly. "I know. And... for what it's worth... I think she did too." He wouldn't have told Creed that before. His friend was still inclined to hate Saya for her kindness rather than appreciate it. Now, however, Creed's wistful smile in return was enough to reassure him that his friend had grown at least enough to understand and accept. "C'mon. Let's get inside. I want some hot chocolate."

.oOoOoOo.

"You'll have to cut them down carefully if you want to avoid killing them."

Listening to Naizer's grim tone, one might have thought he was giving Creed a lesson in his old business instead of horticulture. To Sven it was one of the more surreal moments in his life with Train, Eve and Creed.

That Creed would listen to the lecture with wide, innocent and intent eyes wasn't really surprising. After over a year of being sharing living space with the kid he'd learned that - with the homicidal mania softened - the personality beneath was a sponge for any sort of information. _Like an anthropologist trying desperately to understand the culture he's studying, without a clue as to what to ignore and what's important._ Lacking the gut instincts that permitted most people to operate in society, Creed absorbed anything and everything in a desperate attempt to get along and Sven was used to it by now.

No, the really weird part was that Naizer would deign to offer any sort of advice to a man he hated. The Chronos Number had good reason to despise Creed, considering that Xiao Li's predecessor had died at Creed's hand. Aisu had been a friend, possibly more than friend, to Naizer and though he now knew more about the circumstances around that killing, Naizer still didn't really like Creed. Which made his helpfulness all the more odd.

Apparently Creed thought so too. As Naizer finished drawing something on a piece of paper, the younger man's dark eyes rose to meet the Number's. "You're... being very kind." There was an uncertain note in Creed's tone, a faint undertone of fear and worry.

Naizer shrugged. "The roses never did anything to me. No reason to let your incompetence kill them, too." At Creed's slight flinch, he added, "I haven't forgiven you. I may _never_ forgive you. On the other hand, I understand what happened and I won't spend the rest of my life wallowing in hatred."

"I see."

"Besides. I figure if you ever... EVER... revert to your old behavior, I'll have all the excuse in the world to pound you straight into the ground."

Sven winced inwardly as Creed stared, blinking, at Naizer, then gave the taller man that oh-so-sweet smile. "All right. It's a bargain. Though you'll have to stand in line. Train gets first dibs."

.oOo.

Naizer took a deep breath and really, really wished he had an excuse to pound Creed, at least smack him around, right that minute. That smile was one of the scariest ones he'd ever seen, though he was at a loss to say why. Glancing at Sven and Eve - Train and Sephiria having gone out back to talk - he wondered exactly how to react.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Creed was also looking at Sven and if he'd been anyone else Naizer would have thought he looked pathetically unhappy.

Sven shook his head, sighing, his expression long-suffering. "Yes. You are." At Naizer's frown, he added, "I keep trying to make him understand. That smile doesn't work for him, but he does it anyway."

In a tiny voice, Creed whispered, "I can't help myself, I'm still..." He forced himself to stop talking momentarily, forcing back whatever song lyric or media reference he was about to make and, finally, added, "Would it help if you thought of it as a facial tic?"

Naizer sighed. He didn't want understand Creed, but he had to admit to a slight - very slight - empathy. _He really is pathetic... Given this isn't all still an act_.Still, that kidnapping earlier in the year had made it clear that - whatever else was going on in Creed's head - he had some reason for his behavior. "Never mind, Creed. It isn't something I have to deal with all the time. I'm not going to worry if you can't act like a normal human being. _And stop humming that, whatever it is_!"

Creed's hand went to his mouth. "Oops. Sorry."

Naizer looked at Sven and Eve. "How do you put up with it?"

With a wry chuckle, Sven answered, "Growl at him when he gets too annoying and ignore it otherwise. It's not like he can help it."

"Better you than me, that's all I can say." Naizer only wished that was entirely true. He glanced off towards the kitchen, where Sephiria was talking to Train.

.oOo.

"So that's the only reason you came?" Train shook his head. "Don't you trust Xiao Li to warn you if he looks like he's reverting?" He felt mildly annoyed at her lack of trust, even though he knew it was distrust of Creed, rather than himself, that motivated her.

Sephiria went to look out the window. "Xiao Li... is difficult to understand," she said softly. "Yet I have reason to believe that he is no longer as neutral an observer as I might desire. I have not replaced him because he is not Creed's only watcher, yet I am concerned."

"Not neutral?" Train frowned, not really understanding the concern. "If you mean that they've become friends, I don't think that's a problem. If he likes Creed he won't want him to get into trouble again."

The slender blonde shook her head. "You misunderstand. I fear that Xiao Li is fond of Creed. That very fondness may blind him to Creed's less desirable behavior."

Train was at a loss to know how to react. "Fond? Of _Creed_?" He couldn't work out why that bothered him, but it did. "Creed's not old enough for that kind of thing."

Sephiria was looking at him funny and Train corrected himself. "He's not _emotionally_ old enough. Xiao Li hasn't gone and said something to him, has he?" He wondered why Sephiria still had a frown on her face. "He can't handle adult feelings, Sephiria." That he, himself, seldom felt much in the way of common adult feelings he left unsaid. He was certainly further along than Creed was. Possibly further than Creed could _ever_ be. "Tell Xiao Li he'd better not..."

"Xiao Li knows that perfectly well, Train." Sephiria's expression was stern as she turned back to the window. "He told me what was happening and suggested that I either remove him or find a second watcher. He will not say anything to Creed, however."

After a moment, Train sighed. "Okay. So who else is going to be keeping an eye on Creed?" It would have to be a Number. No one else could keep up if Creed went bug-nuts again. Not that he expected it, but Sephiria certainly would. They all watched Creed like hawks, waiting for that moment when his sanity finally took a turn for the worse and launched him on a new rebellion against Chronos.

"Naizer."

.oOoOoOo.

"Interesting turn of events." Sven watched Sephiria and Naizer return to their car with a frown. "You okay with all this, Creed?" He looked at the pale haired man, who had a faintly unhappy look on his face. "You look a bit like you swallowed a lemon."

"The fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat," Creed whispered, then shook himself. "Sorry. A bit sad, I suppose. I enjoy Ten's company. He doesn't have any expectations of me. Naizer... really hates me."

Sven was about to point out that Creed had given him reason, but decided that that wasn't really a fair thing to say. _Creed knows perfectly well how angry Naizer is with him._ "Could be worse. She could have set Balder and Krantz on you."

Train choked and forced a laugh, though he too had a distant and mildly concerned expression. "They'd drown him in the toilet first, Sven. Sephiria knows better." He put a hand on Creed's shoulder. "Don't worry, Creed. Ten isn't gone entirely. Just going to be double-checked. It's just as well." Curiously, his tone suggested he wasn't nearly as sorry about the change as Creed was. _If anything, he almost seems relieved._ Sven made a note to ask Train about it later.

Silence followed for a moment, then Creed turned a quiet, gentle, smile on Train. "Yes. That's true. Anyway, I should finish the cookies now." He headed back towards the kitchen, then paused. "I had fun today, Train. Thank you."

.oOo.

Train followed Creed into the kitchen. "You really okay?"

The dark eyes that met his made Train feel oddly protective. "Yes. I am. Still crazy after all these years." Creed sighed. "I wish..." Whatever it was he wished drifted off as he headed for the refrigerator, automatically pouring a glass of milk for Train.

After waiting a moment, Train asked, "You wish?" Creed shook his head. "It's okay to tell me, Creed."

A small chuckle escaped Creed's lips. "I wish my imagination wasn't so strong. It knows only too well what my heart desires." He shrugged. "Please, Train. I'll deal with it. I have to."

It was such an unusual response that Train couldn't help blinking at the man. He'd never seen Creed so determined to face whatever confusion was going on in his mind on his own. He didn't know why it bothered him, but it did. He probed a bit more. "You're not sorry Ten won't be around as much?"

"Oh, that? Well, a bit. But I don't want him to be in trouble." Creed started filling another baking pan with cookie dough, after giving Train a look that promised trouble if he snitched anymore. "No. It's really nothing, Train. Just my... desire... overcoming my good sense, such as it is. I'll be all right."

Train still couldn't figure out what Creed was talking about but his friend's obvious wish to handle the problem on his own had to be respected. _He can't grow up, otherwise._ He sat down, watching Creed work with a bemused feeling. _Well. Whatever it is that was bothering him doesn't seem to be too big a deal. If he thinks he's going to be okay I can't really force him to talk about it._

He just wished he knew why the thought of Creed growing up and not needing him anymore made him feel strangely sad.

To be continued...


	51. A Gift Worth Giving

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

A GIFT WORTH SHARING

_December 26, 2004 _

Creed smiled happily at his house-mates, hoping against hope that he didn't look _too_ much like an excited little boy who'd just gotten all the bestest things in the whole wide world. _But it's nice. So very nice to be remembered. To have one's feelings considered._ It wasn't even that the gifts were all that fabulous after all. They'd all agreed that gift giving occasions weren't going to become exercises in one-up-manship. Otherwise Creed would have gladly given every penny of his not inconsiderable allowance to buy expensive and wonderful gifts for his friends. _Not just my friends,_ he realized contentedly. _My family._

Carefully setting that thought aside for later consideration, Creed looked at his gifts again; A new set of cooking pans - from Annette; Books - from Eve; A Disney movie - from Sven... that had been a surprise, since "Pirates of the Caribbean" was somewhat more violent than the movies Sven usually thought he should watch; A Playstation II, games and LCD screen - from Train, for those times when Creed was bored and on his own. Train's gift had been separated out between Christmas and birthday, of course - the games and game unit itself having been given the day before. Creed was mildly puzzled at the LCD display since he couldn't think of a reason why he'd need to move the Playstation from its post of honor up in his bedroom, but had figured it for a nice addition for his toy.

"Thank you, all of you. These are wonderful." He smiled at his friends. "Shall we get the cake?"

"Just one thing left, first," Sven said. "Train? You want to do the honors?"

Creed frowned, blinking first at the older man, then at his beloved. "One thing left? I don't understand." The table was laden with gifts from everyone already. What more could there possibly be?

Train grinned reassuringly and Creed relaxed a little. It couldn't be anything _too_ bad. As Train handed him an envelope he took it and, very carefully, slit it open with a sharpened fingernail. "Wh... what?" Creed stared at the little blue booklet and pulled it out slowly. A passport - so new the cover wasn't even slightly scuffed. "I don't understand. I already have..."

"Open it."

Even more slowly Creed opened the little booklet. His own picture looked back at him, all the usual information that he was used to seeing. All the usual, except one thing. The profession had changed from 'unemployed' to 'Apprentice Sweeper'.

.oOo.

Creed was staring down at his new passport with a look of utter and complete panic and Train wondered if they should have broken the news a different way. Except he rather thought that talking it over with Creed would just have resulted in arguments and efforts to weasel out of the possibility of change. "There's more in the envelope," he said gently.

Trembling fingers moved almost automatically to draw the laminated rectangle out. "Apprentice... License... I don't..." Creed looked almost ready to faint. "WHY?"

Sven coughed. "Because, while I don't think you'll ever be able to be a full Sweeper, you're good enough to be an apprentice." At Creed's glare, he shrugged. "All right, that really doesn't explain things." He leaned forward in his chair. "Creed, we can't afford to leave you at home with one or two of us while the other goes Sweeping. You're going to have to start coming along. In which case you _have_ to have that license."

Shuddering, staring from each of his housemates and back down to his new license, Creed shook his head. "You don't have to take me. Leave me with Doctor Jones. He'd take care of me. Or..." He swallowed hard, "...have my... guard... stay in the house."

Train sighed. "Creed, either way you'd be miserable. Lonely and unhappy. Leave you with Doctor Jones and you'll miss home. Leave you at home and Naizer would scare you into a relapse or something." Sephiria certainly wouldn't permit Xiao Li to be the Number in charge of keeping an eye on Creed under that circumstance. _And even if _she_ did, _I_ wouldn't. _

Creed blanched, "I could... manage... at Annealment House."

"Are you saying you'd prefer to be there than with us?" Train asked, knowing the answer without having to ask.

.oOo.

Creed had seldom felt so scared and uncertain as he did right now. He felt like he was about to step off into unknown space, without knowing how far down the floor beyond might be or even if there _was_ a floor at all. Yet at the same time the thought of being left behind while all three of those he'd come to love went away into danger was agonizing. _Love?_ It hit him suddenly that while he didn't love Sven or Eve in the same way as he loved Train, he _did_ love them. "You know the answer."

"Then don't worry. We'll make sure everything goes okay. First few times we'll take you on small jobs. Things that don't need you to be involved." Train patted the LCD display on the table. "Take your Playstation. You can stay in the hotel room while we're out."

That, at least, explained why Train had gotten him the display. Yet, "If you don't need me to be involved... why bother with a license at all?" He wanted to go, yes, but maybe if he didn't have to worry about being a Sweeper, didn't have to worry about risking making a terrible mistake in a fight, it wouldn't be so scary.

Sven leaned on his chin. "Well, the problem is, you're a trouble magnet. So if we take you, something could happen that puts you at the center of things. If you don't have a license you could end up in more trouble." His eye met Creed's and he smiled reassuringly. "Besides, can you promise that - if one of us is in danger and you're the only one in a position to help - that you would stay out?"

There was nothing Creed wanted more than to wilt into his chair and hide from the future staring at him. Yet at the same time he was excited. "I... I couldn't promise that. Not and be able to keep it." He was almost surprised at the satisfied look in Sven's eye.

"We wouldn't want you to make such a promise anyway," Train added. "The only promise you've made that we want you to keep is the one about killing." His amber eyes met Creed's quietly. "And that is one I firmly believe you _will_ keep."

"How can you be so sure?" Creed gazed back at his beloved, feeling himself straighten, feeling pride surge through him. _He trusts me. He has no reason to and he trusts me._

.oOo.

Sven forced down a smirk. Careful consideration of the plan had led them to be fairly sure of Creed's reactions. Knowledge of his quirks and the way to work around them had helped immensely. Reminding Creed that he would be left alone, either with Doctor Jones or - worse - with Naizer gave him something to avoid. Reassuring Creed that he wasn't expected to operate immediately, that he would just go on simple jobs to start with, kept him from panicking. Making him realize that he wouldn't be able to stay out of a job if it seemed he was needed clarified the need for the change in status. Creed hated change but loved and trusted Train so utterly that being reassured of Train's faith in him proved the final key to getting agreement from their housemate.

Train's smile didn't show the triumph Sven knew his partner was feeling. It was a delicately balanced effort. They couldn't just ride roughshod over Creed's feelings but nor could they slowly work him over to agreeing to a change as comprehensive as becoming an Apprentice Sweeper. A change that meant he would both have a chance to get rid of some of the violent urges that still affected him and yet would be forced to control himself.

"I'm sure," Train said quietly. "You fought a whole battalion of terrorists without killing or seriously injuring any of them. You've been attacked by Lugado twice. By Balder and Krantz once. By two Sweepers... You faced a man who caused you about the most pain anyone in this world has ever caused you and the worst you did was break his nose."

Creed smirked. "It wasn't much of a nose to begin with." It rather amused Sven to realize that, aside from the excessive emotional responses and his feelings towards Train, Creed had a fairly male attitude towards those who hurt him. Now that Carvel was punished for his misdeeds - and punished in a way that echoed what the man had done to Creed - the kid could think of him with the smug satisfaction of one who'd been vindicated.

"Anyway," Eve said, mildly disapproving, "the point is that you've kept yourself under control under the most incredibly trying circumstances. So we can trust that you'll keep doing so."

Train added, quietly, perhaps even hesitantly. "We can't say that you'll always be able to keep from killing but as long as you're willing to keep trying. As long as you fight the urge... We believe you'll be all right."

.oOoOoOo.

The night sky was cold and clear, stars brilliant in the icy air. Train, stepping out onto the patio, smiled wryly at the pale figure seated above him, perched on the highest point of the roof. _Inevitable that he'd end up there._ Climbing up, Train moved to sit beside his housemate and gazed up at the stars silently.

At last it was Creed who broke the silence. "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God."

The quote might be meaningless, but what lay behind it was not. "I can't blame you," Train agreed softly. "I was scared the first time I went out as a Sweeper." He remembered those early days. Unable to live without the excitement of the chase. Unwilling to kill to satisfy that excitement and terrified that habit would take over and he would prove himself unable to be anything else _but_ the heartless killer. "I won't say everything will be fine. That's something we'll have to wait and see, but..."

"But you trust me." Creed smiled broadly, happily, at Train. "I thought we weren't going to keep giving bestest gifts now."

"Well, return this gift with proof that our trust in you is good," Train answered. "We had to talk hard and long to convince Sephiria that this was going to work." He remembered the long hours of discussion and argument with a wince. She didn't like Creed, distrusted his current benevolence and hated taking risks with him. "We had to agree to take Naizer on the first few jobs. He won't be working, of course, just keeping an eye on you."

Creed's smile wilted and Train grinned reassuringly. "Don't worry. We won't let him upset you. Or at least we'll try..." A thought occurred to him. "Don't suppose you could tell me why he bothers you?" From the moment that Creed had been told that Naizer would be one of his guards he'd been slightly on edge, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something to grab him, scurrying quickly through doorways with a guilty air. That, as much as anything else, had been what had driven the decision to take him on jobs from now on.

"Aside from what I did to Number X?" Creed whispered, softly and a bit sadly.

Train leaned back on his hands. "I can see why that made Naizer hate you. Though Eve told me what you said happened." He forced himself not to look at Creed, sensing that doing so would risk sending the pale-haired man into tears that neither desired. "But... I get the feeling you don't have much love for him either. Did he do something to you?"

A soft sigh turned to a cloudy mist of icy air. "When I was first training... You know how we'd be teamed to work with a Number? When we were just mooks?" Creed's tone had a faint strain to it, the tone it took when he was forcing himself not to talk in circles.

Train nodded. His 'mook' days had been short-lived, tribute to the Black Cat's luck, but he _did_ remember. Each of the Numbers had a group of lower ranked operatives under their command, though Train had generally ignored his. "You were in his group?" He turned to look at his friend, watching the pale face as it stared up into the sky.

"Mmmm," Creed agreed softly. "I'd only just... learned to focus - the way _they_ taught me. I wasn't very good at it, though" His expression went distant, wistful. "I'd never been outside before. Not that I could remember. So everything. _Everything_, was fascinating. I was... seventeen or so... and..."

"And you didn't always manage." Train hadn't known Naizer very well but he was well aware that Number Five wasn't a patient man. He was suddenly vouchsafed an image of a very young, very earnest, very eager Creed trying desperately to please his new masters and constantly falling all over his big puppy feet.

"I _did_ learn, but not fast enough for him. I'd become good. Better than good." A tear trickled down Creed's face. "I was so proud of that. But he couldn't stand listening to me. Couldn't stand the way I laughed. Couldn't stand anything I was. I was so incredibly relieved when I was promoted. So incredibly relieved when it was decided I'd be partnered with another Number. And so utterly glad that it would be you."

Train raised a brow at his companion. Creed seemed to realize that he'd drifted back to his favorite topic - his love and adoration of the Black Cat - and, with a wry smile, he continued, "Sorry. Anyway, it wasn't really his fault, I suppose. He reminded me of Carvel. There's a similarity in their personalities. An inability to suffer fools gladly and... I was a fool in his eyes. Now, without even the edge I used to have, without the strength I forced myself to have, that's all I _can_ be."

"You aren't a fool." The wistful look on Creed's face showed his fear so perfectly and Train repeated the statement more firmly. "I mean it, Creed. He doesn't have to understand that, but you are not a fool. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. A. Fool."

"I..."

"You are capable of learning. Capable of changing yourself when you need to. What the hell does it matter if you talk like every book, tv show or movie you've ever seen? You get your point across. What the hell does it matter if you wander around in a daze some portion of the day? You spend most of your time being bloody useful; to me, to Eve, to Sven and Annette! More importantly, though, who the hell has the right to say you _can't_ be foolish and silly sometimes? You aren't hurting anyone."

Creed suddenly smiled more happily. "You're right," he said softly. "It's just hard for me to believe. Harder still when someone like Naizer is growling in my face."

Train grinned back. "So? We won't let him." His smile broadened at the contented look that crossed Creed's face. "Taking you with us is part of that."

"I thought it was the pleasure of my company." For a moment Train thought Creed was hurt by the inference that he needed protection, then he saw the slight, small, twinkle in the pale haired man's eyes. "Or, if nothing else, for the entertainment value?"

Train couldn't help but laugh.

To Be Continued...


	52. Intermezzo: Unknown Again

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_Intermezzo: Unknown _**

_January 3rd, 2005_

"The Hoshi are still a problem."

"I don't see that." The speaker toyed lightly with her weapon, fingers tracing the engravings in the silvery grey metal. "They've been entirely useless to us. Diskence alone has been a disaster."

"Diskence was an error in judgment on everyone's part. His grandfather's, Chronos', the Hoshi's... our own." The old man gazed down over the balcony where ranks of men and women were going thru their drills. "He's scarcely an issue now. The Hoshi are."

The woman shrugged, pale eyes watching the exercise with a critical air. "The Hoshi are a disorganized band of misfits. Diskence may have been an error in judgment but he kept them moving in the required direction at least. Now they wander around aimlessly, causing small troubles here and there." She shook her head. "Too bad the freak couldn't keep his mind on his work, instead of Train Heartnet's admittedly pretty hind end."

Her words caused the old man to choke slightly. There were times when his granddaughter's outspoken ways tended to made him wonder about her good sense. "I know nothing of that," he said finally. "Return to the subject." He watched one of the prisoners fall in a pool of blood and nodded to himself. It wasn't difficult, these days, to find live targets for his people to practice on. Whole regions of the world had turned to lawlessness, making it simple to capture dissidents. The Eldest of Chronos had much to answer for, allowing matters to get to this point and one day he was going to make that truth abundantly clear to the old fool.

"Very well. What, exactly, makes the Hoshi a problem?"

"They're becoming... difficult. They refused to involve themselves with that last raid."

She shrugged. "The attempt to capture the dinosaur? The one Diskence and that womanizing fool Janos interfered with?"

"Exactly. Had they sent even a few of their people to help there would have been no problem. They retain their misplaced loyalty to the fool. Worse, they seem to realize we've been using them. The puppets should not know where the strings are attached." He frowned deeply. If the Hoshi No Shito could manage to reorganize itself they'd be a true threat to his plans. They were the only ones with the Tao drug and the only ones with those damned nano-machines of the Doctor's. They needed to either be neutralized or brought into line with his organization. _The latter, if possible. They could still be useful._ He said as much.

"A simple solution. Find them a leader who will take our orders." She considered the matter. "Reports say that the one called Sheldon might be a possibility. Particularly since he had the sense to break with them when Diskence started to go off the deep end."

"Diskence has never been _in_ the shallow end," he grumbled with asperity. "But, yes. I agree. Capture Sheldon and we may be able to turn him to our purposes."

She smiled, rising to her feet. One of the prisoners was running for the wall, having managed somehow to break the neck of his attacker. The sound of her weapon firing was a deafening explosion. "He cooperates or he dies," she stated, once they could hear again.

Down on the grounds, raw hamburger that used to be a human being puddle onto the stone floor. Business as usual.

To Be Continued...


	53. Baby Steps

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_Baby Steps_**

_January 12, 2005 _

"This must be the place." Creed took a deep breath of chill air and looked around with wide eyes at the chalet nestled against the mountain-side. The cold felt good after a long ride squeezed against the door, Eve practically in his lap owing to Naizer's sour presence in the back seat. "Oh, look at the toboggan ride!" He pointed up the mountainside, where a smaller building was nestled beside two snow covered ramps. Further up the mountain was the hunting lodge where their target was supposed to be hiding out.

"We're not here so you can toboggan," Naizer growled as he climbed out of the car and glared over the car at Creed. "Keep your mind on..."

Sven coughed. "Naizer," he said mildly, "It's my job to scold Creed. _If_ he's out of line." He turned his eye on Creed. "If you could hold off on sightseeing until we're checked in, it'd be appreciated. You and Train get the luggage. Eve, could you check us in while I help them?" He tossed the girl his wallet, "The reservation should be for a suite. Two bedrooms and a sitting room."

As the girl hurried up the steps, walking with a business-like air, Creed went to the back and waited for Sven to unlock the hatch. "Train's asleep. I'll take his stuff."

"Train is faking it to get out of work," Sven answered sourly. He leaned in through the hatch and yelled, "Up and at 'em sunshine. I'll drag you out and dump you in a snow bank if you don't help with the luggage!"

Before Creed could object to Sven's treatment of his beloved, Train had rolled out of his seat and leaped over Naizer to join them. While the Chronos Number sputtered angrily, Train grabbed a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He was halfway up the steps before Creed and Sven could get their bags and Eve's. "C'mon you slowpokes...yahhhh" As often appeared the case, Train's good luck glitched most when there was no real danger around. He slipped on a patch of ice, did a roll fall that brought him up against the rail and turned to give them a peace sign.

Sven nudged Creed, "Nearly ended up in the snow bank after all," he muttered. "C'mon. Let's get inside." Creed nodded, still watching his love with the amazement that always overcame him when Train's physical prowess was displayed. _He did that on purpose to distract Naizer, didn't he?_ Creed actually wasn't certain of that. Even now he was never sure how much of Train's luck was self-created and how much just luck. Shrugging, he followed Sven up the steps, sliding happily on the ice at the edges of each landing and ignoring Naizer's muttered grumblings.

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

"Let's talk." Sven took Naizer aside as his housemates began settling in. Naizer frowned, puzzled by the blonde man's tone. It wasn't _he_ who was goofing around, after all, yet Sven seemed to be annoyed at something he'd done. "Look, Naizer, I know how aggravating they can be, but..." He paused, glared at Train who'd flung a pillow at Eve as they argued over who was going to get which bedroom.

"I have no idea how you put up with it." Naizer really couldn't understand it. Sven obviously found the horseplay going on behind them to be nearly as irritating as he did.

Sven sighed, pushing his hat back as he scratched at his head. "I really couldn't say. Never mind that, though. The point is, we're here to do a job and you're just here as grumpy observer. We made a deal with Sephiria and you're part of it. That deal does not include you taking over our job and it doesn't include you bullying Creed."

"You expect him to work." Naizer shook his head pityingly. "God help you, do you really think he's going to be useful like _that_?" He pointed at Creed, who'd gone out on the balcony to stare at the scenery, leaning over so far that the foolish little maniac was surely going to fall off. Train wasn't helping matters; _he_ was standing _on_ the balcony rail, pointing at something for Creed to look at.

Sven winced as he looked at the two lunatics proving Naizer's point. _And Train isn't any better than Creed when it comes to safety. That luck of his is going to run out one day._ Naizer was a firm proponent of careful planning and proper preparation and he counted himself deeply lucky that he'd never had to work with the Black Cat. Having Creed as one of his men for a while had been quite bad enough.

"None the less," Sven said, sighing, "Creed is _our_ responsibility. He's not even going to work right now. So just... leave him alone."

Naizer sighed, a long suffering sigh. "Very well, Volfeed." If nothing else, not having to worry about Creed's behavior - unless, of course, he slipped up - was a relief. "He's _all_ yours. And may God have mercy on your souls."

"Gee. Thanks."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Leaning over the couch where Creed was sitting with his Playstation, Sven frowned a bit. "I'm still not sure we should have let Janos give that to you." He watched as Dante from Devil May Cry sliced several puppet-like demons into pieces that then transformed into a scattering of crystals. Creed's giggles didn't really make him feel better about it. From the look on Naizer's face, he rather suspected the Chronos Number shared his opinion.

"T'is no flesh & blood I face, but merely pixels on a screen," Creed pointed out. "Damn. Dead again. Time for Jaws." He started rooting through his bag for his GameShark.

Eve glanced over from the book she was reading. "That's cheating, isn't it?"

"Damn right it is. I'm getting too old for this." Creed sighed as he reset the system, then looked up at Sven, blinking innocently at him. "You raanng?"

Sven nodded, "Something like that, Lurch. Tomorrow's routine?" This wasn't the best time to ask Creed a question - late evening was almost never a good moment to get coherent answers - but if Creed could remember it now, he'd certainly remember in the morning.

Dark eyes went thoughtful. "Dress in the bathroom. Go downstairs and have breakfast. Wait in the dining room for the rest of you." Creed looked smugly pleased with himself at Sven's nod. "Do I get a Scooby Snack?"

Sven chuckled. "Virtual one," he agreed, pretending to flip something at his housemate. "I am _not_ carrying biscuits around in my pocket just to keep you happy."

Creed made a moue of disappointment. "Can I go kill stuff now?"

"As long as all you're killing are those demons in the game, be my guest." Sven winced as Creed started humming a song from "Beauty & the Beast". _Someday I'll learn not to set him off. Course, day to day living sets him off._ None the less, from Naizer's expression it might be a good idea to stop Creed before he got too irritating and Sven shook his head, putting a finger over the younger man's lips. Rather to his surprise, Creed shut up, shooting a guilty look Naizer's way and flinching a little.

_And that's something else I may have to talk to Naizer about._ It wasn't really either man's fault, but their personalities created a vicious cycle that neither seemed able to control. _If only Sephiria would trust Ten. Xiao Li gets along well with Creed. Naizer just makes him nervy and more likely to tangle himself up._ Of course, it wasn't just Sephiria that didn't want Ten along. Train hadn't said anything but there'd been a faint undertone of distrust from him as well - as if he expected Xiao Li to take advantage of Creed somehow.

Shrugging off the thoughts, Sven decided that there was something more important he had to be doing. "Don't stay up too late, kids," he told Creed and Eve. "We have to get moving tomorrow."

"Yes, daddy," Creed mumbled. "Aww, c'mon, Dante... Move! Just 'cuz you can't die doesn't mean I want to sit here and get bitten like a doofus."

With a sigh, Sven went to bed, glancing at the couch where his snoring partner lay. _Hope Naizer brought his ear plugs. It gets noisy around here at night. Eve's lucky, she's got a room to herself. _

To Be Continued...


	54. An Old Friend of the Family

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_An Old Friend of the Family_**

_January 13, 2005 _

"Here is your coffee, sir." The waitress set the cup beside Creed and he gave her a friendly smile. It was one that he hoped was less childish than usual, having practiced not overdoing the sweetness that seemed to bother Naizer and Sven. _Though Sven is getting used to it._ Still, if he could work out a way to not irritate Naizer for the next few days it would be a good thing.

"Get me one too," a voice said behind Creed, gruff and irritated. Naizer in a grumpy mood was hardly differentiable from Naizer in his usual frame of mind, but Creed sensed more than usual aggravation. _Though I can't think why. He knew I was going to get up early._ Creed had pretty much expected the Chronos Number to be joining him soon. The man had opened his eyes when Creed had gotten up and given him one of the most aggravated glares he'd seen for a while.

As the waitress left the area, Naizer flopped down into the chair across from Creed and muttered something under his breath in German. Creed chose to ignore the obscenity, deciding that it was too beautiful a morning to waste with arguing. Besides, maybe if he did his best not to set Naizer off they'd avoid the squabble he feared was close to breaking. Instead he tried out his new smile on the man and asked, "Good morning, Naizer. Did you sleep well?"

Bleary eyes glared at Creed and he realized with a sinking sensation that if he'd wanted to avoid a squabble that that was apparently very much the wrong thing to ask. "No. No, I didn't, thank you very much!"

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Creed tried again, without much hope of salvaging the situation. "Perhaps you should go back upstairs and try to get more sleep?"

"And leave _you_ to your own devices? I _don't_ think so." Naizer took the coffee the waitress brought him with barely a snarled thank you, then glared at Creed when he took up the slack, smiling up at the young woman. "And _don't_ go around trying to make nice to people, you sociopath!"

Creed nearly froze but managed by main force not to react. "You really don't have to be so rude," he pointed out. "She didn't do anything to you. Nor have I, recently."

Another growled obscenity escaped Naizer's lips. "IT'S YOUR FAULT I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT!" He subsided quickly as he realized that the few other patrons in the restaurant were staring at them. More quietly he hissed, "What with Train and Sven's snoring and _your_ tossing and turning I'm lucky I managed five straight minutes."

_.oOo._

It occurred to Naizer even as he growled at Creed that he'd said much the same thing before, when the man had been more a boy, fresh out of training, so wet-behind-the-ears that he squeaked and given to wandering off whenever he got bored. _Which happened entirely too often._ There'd been occasions when he and his team had been forced to share a room and Creed had tended to twist, turn and tangle himself up in his covers to the point of mummification, muttering and mumbling incoherently all night. _Apparently some things just don't change._

Dark eyes blinked at Naizer, confused and bewildered expression turning to comprehension. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I can't help it. Doctor Jones says my body's never recovered from all the drugs they used to give me at the asylum. That's why I sleep on a pad. I fall out of bed, otherwise... Maybe you should get earplugs, the way Sven does?"

Somehow the very reasonable suggestion just angered Naizer more. The way Creed had pulled back into himself didn't help either. "The hell you can't help it. Just like you can't help all that nonsense you spout? I notice you're talking awfully clearly right now!"

Creed stiffened, pale face going whiter. "That's because it's morning. My brain works best in the morning. I just get worse the more stressed I get. The more stressed I get and..." He was trembling, in tears. "I start acting more strangely and I can't control myself as well and..."

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE _HELL_ UP!"

"I CAN'T SHUT THE HELL UP WHEN YOU KEEP YELLING AT ME!" Creed yelled in return, glaring furiously at Naizer, rising from his seat, hands slapped onto the table. "ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME RELAPSE? IS THAT WHAT YOU _WANT_?" His expression went from childish dismay to adult rage with terrifying speed.

It suddenly hit Naizer that he wasn't exactly paying good attention to the orders he'd been given. Sephiria had made it clear that he was there to keep this man out of trouble, after all. Keeping him out of trouble certainly didn't entail driving him into a homicidal fury. "Okay. I'll stop yelling. We're making a scene, anyway." He tried to keep his tone level, to be reasonable. "Sit down and stop fussing at me."

Very, very slowly Creed sank back into his chair. He was panting for air, struggling against some emotion. It was, apparently, a losing battle as he started to cry, descending once more into childish tears. Naizer watched, helplessly, at the wreckage that he'd caused. _But, damn it, he _has_ to do it deliberately. Doesn't he?_

Somehow, despite every natural instinct in him, Naizer kept his silence, waiting for the tears to subside and hoping that they would. He had no idea how to deal with this kind of overwrought behavior. _I suppose I should consider myself fortunate he didn't go ballistic on me._ It was, in fact, something of a surprise that Creed hadn't. The Creed Naizer had fought before would never have been able to hold back his rage. Somewhere, somehow, Creed had learned an odd sort of control.

At last, sniffling, Creed managed to take a drink of the cold water the waitress brought over. The girl had made sure to give Naizer a look that would have frozen him solid if it'd been a Tao power. _Worse that he seems to have a talent for making people like him. I can _see_ what a brat he is. Why can't anyone else?_

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Creed was looking away, as if avoiding Naizer's gaze would help the situation.

"Of course not." Naizer couldn't help but allow his disbelief to color his tone. As Creed's lips tightened over whatever sharp response he was going to make, Naizer continued, "How can you expect me to believe you?"

Creed sighed. "How am I supposed to make him understand?" he muttered and it occurred to Naizer that the man wasn't even aware of the words coming out of his mouth. His eyes raised to meet Naizer's. "I'm doing the best I can with what's left of my brain. It just doesn't get any better than this."

_.oOo._

Naizer was staring blankly at Creed, a confused look on his face. "You behaved weird from before Beluga brained you," he pointed out after a moment.

Creed waved that off impatiently, hand flapping in the air between them. "No, no, no, no. My nano-machines fixed _that_. It's my screwed up lobotomy that they can't do anything about." He frowned, startled at the puzzled expression on Naizer's face. "Don't you remember what Eve told you?"

"She said you were brain damaged. I figured it was Beluga's hit..." Naizer was still staring at him. "You serious? A real lobotomy?"

With a shrug, Creed sighed. "A screwed up one," he agreed. "The doctor messed up."

For a long moment Naizer was silent and Creed shifted uncomfortably. There wasn't any pity in the man's eyes, but neither was there any other emotion that Creed could read. At last Naizer said, "So all the... chatter? The laughing... it's because of this... lobotomy?"

"That and four years of solitary confinement," Creed answered wryly. "Drugged out of what was left of my tiny mind." He wiped tears from his face with his wrist, then winced as he realized how childish doing so made him look.

Another thoughtful silence. "You were lobotomized... excuse me, got a _failed_ lobotomy... before you were trained. In which case, with those four years of solitary, you had to be about twelve or thirteen. You're talking about it awfully calmly. Am I supposed to believe you?"

"You can believe _me_," Sven said behind Naizer. "It's true. Got proof." He sat down at the table, requested a cup of coffee from the waitress and turned to Creed. "Anything good for breakfast?"

"The waffles are nice. Very fluffy. I wouldn't recommend the buffet though. It's been sitting there for a while and there haven't been enough people to keep the food moving." Creed smiled at his housemate, relieved to see him. _I am _never_ going to complain about the way he growls at me again._ He would have been hard put to figure out what the difference between Naizer's grumbling and Sven's, but there _was_ one. "Or try the Eggs Benedict. _C'est_ _tres Americain_."

Sven chuckled. "No surprise. This place is a tourist trap." He ordered the waffles and, once the waitress was gone, turned to Naizer. "Done bullying my apprentice?" As Naizer's eyebrows rose, Sven continued, "I thought I told you to leave Creed alone?"

"You didn't say anything about putting up with his weirdness. I knew he had issues but...," Naizer answered, tone defensive. "I didn't _know_ he was missing half his brain."

Creed considered that. "Oh, no. Not half. More like a third, or maybe a quarter."

"Doctor Jones says it's about ten percent, Creed. Don't exaggerate." Sven gave him an indulgent look that took the sting of his words off. "And you do pretty good with what's left."

Creed shrugged. "Yeah, but it was an important ten percent. The part that tells me when I should stop and shut up. Without it I just keep blithering on about nothing and don't know when to..." He blinked at Naizer's expression then at Sven's. "...stop? Like now?"

With a laugh, Sven sighed. "Yes, like now. Tell you what. Eve should be coming down in a few minutes, but I bet Train's still out cold. Go upstairs, wake him up. Tell him it's time to get to work. We have a busy day of reconnaissance ahead of us. It'll take all morning to get up the mountain to that lodge." He paused, then added in a stern voice, "And don't, for God's sake, let him get you into a pillow fight again."

"I only did that once," Creed answered with dignity, getting up. "And _he_ started it."

"I know you did and I know he did. Just don't do it again."

Creed didn't dignify the order with an answer.

_.oOoOoOo._

Train slid down the banister leading to the first floor of the chalet and chuckled as Creed followed suit on the other side. _I'm a bad influence,_ he thought with smug satisfaction. _Just the sort of bad influence he needs._ Creed could be so rigid at times, unwilling to just let things happen around him and go with the flow. Considering how confused and unfocused he was, with emotional storms constantly tossing him around, the ability to ride the waves rather than drown in them would be a good thing to have.

Landing on the floor, he grinned broadly at his companion. "I win."

"Hmph. You weigh more than I do, that's all. Inertia's on your side."

Train laughed. "I weigh about three pounds more than you, tops," he started to protest, only to stop as Creed turned a puzzled gaze off towards the chalet's bar. "What is it?" Someone was in there playing the piano softly.

"That's not a very polite song to be playing," Creed said reprovingly. "Eve's too young for that sort of thing and she's in the next room." As Train stared at him, the pale-haired man pushed the doors open and went in.

Following behind, Train raised a brow. It'd been a while, certainly, but he thought he recognized that pale blonde hair. _What's Sheldon doing here?_ Apparently Creed was equally disconcerted, for he'd stopped dead half-way across the room to the piano. Both men stared at the former Hoshi No Shito member blankly, uncertain of what to do.

The musician didn't seem to have noticed his audience. Dressed in white shirtsleeves and black pants, he was bent over the piano, listening to the notes. His long, wavy, hair was pulled back from his face by a simple tie.

"That song's a bit rude, isn't it?" Creed asked after a moment. "That _is_ from 'Meaning of Life', right?"

With a shrug, Sheldon nodded. "Would be if I were singing the words," he admitted, still frowning down at the piano. "Which is why I'm not. Drat this thing, I swear something's wrong with it."

"Don't ask me, Sheldon. I just play by rote."

Sheldon stiffened and it occurred to Train that the former Hoshi member hadn't really registered whom it was who was standing behind him. _This could get interesting._

_.oOo._

Sheldon stared down at his hands, almost scared to turn and look at the man behind him. It'd been a long while since he'd heard those soft, off-balance, tones. Long enough that he hadn't immediately recognized them, not so long that he could forget how disconcerting they could be. He took a deep breath. "What are you doing here, Diskence? I'm _not_ rejoining the Hoshi. Not with _you_ as their leader."

"Oh, no. You had every right to leave if you felt that way." Creed's tone was surprisingly matter of fact. "And I'm not rejoining them either."

That forced Sheldon to turn and stare at the man who'd once been his leader. To stare, disbelievingly, at the mad-man whose terrifying plans and hidden motivations had made Sheldon too uncomfortable to stay with the group Creed had formed - despite its intent to take down Chronos. _I still want that. Just not his way._

Looking at Creed, though, Sheldon realized that something very significant had changed in the man. _He's let his hair grow. Eyebrows are fuller and the clothing style's changed. Sort of pretty._ Still soft featured and delicate looking, the aura of barely controlled and violent insanity was gone. Replaced by a different sort of insanity, certainly, but one far less terrifying in its implications. The Creed he'd known would kill anyone who presented a threat. This Creed would simply stare bewilderedly at an attacker.

A chuckle from the man behind Creed drew Sheldon's attention. "Heartnet?" He looked from Creed to Train Heartnet, momentarily confused, then it hit him. _Creed's left the Hoshi to go with Train._ It made sense. Train had been Creed's prime motivation from the first and Sheldon had long suspected that the entire world could explode and Creed wouldn't care as long as Train was safe. "This is unexpected. Well, not entirely."

Train came up to stand beside Creed. "Not entirely?"

"_He_," Sheldon pointed at Creed, "would follow _you_ into hell if he had to. Would abandon heaven or break out of hell to be with you. That was part of the reason I left the Hoshi in the first place. He was doing more to try and get you on his side than in fighting Chronos." An amused smile crossed Train's face and Sheldon continued. "I'm not at all surprised that he'd quit the Hoshi to be with you. It's you _letting_ him be with you at all that I find unexpected. Not that I think it's a bad idea. He _needs_ a keeper."

Creed's dark eyes turned towards Train for a moment, then he smiled at Sheldon. "It's only a ghost of a chance," he said softly as Train rolled his eyes and shook his head. "A kindness, undeserved, that shall not be unrequited should I live."

Eyebrows shooting up, Sheldon blinked at his former leader. "A state of grace? Odd way to put it, but..."

"Never mind. It's a long story. The whole thing is," Train answered. "Mind telling us what _you're_ doing here?"

Shrugging, Sheldon patted the piano. "I'm the lounge singer." He grinned at Train's expression. "It's a living. And until I figure out what to do about Chronos, a man's got to do something."

Oddly, Creed got a worried look on his face. "Oh dear. Train, his number will be up if he stays here." He turned and looked at his companion, who winced. "He should go. Now."

Train nodded. "Sven and I aren't here to Sweep _you_ and, frankly, I don't want to try. But there's someone here who wouldn't bother with sweeping, just erase you entirely." At Sheldon's puzzled look, Train continued, "Creed is with me on sufferance from Chronos. That means we had to permit one of the Numbers to come with us on this job."

"Chanel Number Five... I mean, _Chronos_ Number Five," Creed winced as if he'd not intended the mocking description of the Chronos agent, then continued. "He was one of the ones who attacked the castle that day you left. He'll know you."

Nodding slowly, Sheldon couldn't help but agree that departure was the better part of valor. "The bald one, right? Okay. Thanks for the warning." He got up and bowed. "I appreciate it." He looked from Train to Creed and grinned. "Later, dudes."

To Be Continued...


	55. A Day to Remember

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_A Day to Remember_**

_January 14, 2005 _

Creed gazed down the ramp and grinned broadly at the man glaring up at him from the lower landing. Not only was he distracting Naizer, permitting his former compatriot time to escape, but he was getting to do something he'd never done before. He tightened his grip on the rope and pushed off.

"YEEEHAAHHHH!" The wind whistled in Creed's ears as he leaned from side to side. Small stinging bits of snow struck his face and goggles and he felt like he was flying. _Fun! This is FUN! THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!_

Beneath Creed, the toboggan slid sideways and he giggled as he strove to pull it back under control. It was pretty obvious, though, which was likely to win, inertia or his inexperienced reflexes. When the sled turned sideways and he tumbled off and down the rest of the way he was howling with laughter.

As he slid to a halt at Naizer's feet, the Chronos Number shook his head sadly. "That was pathetic, Diskence."

"Good thing I don't drive, isn't it?" Creed answered perkily, getting to his feet and brushing snow off his ski suit. Then he took off his goggles and wiped them clean. "One time behind the wheel was quite enough. No hedgehogs here for me to run over."

"I have no idea what you're talking about but I'm still scared." Naizer sighed. "From your reaction I take it you're going to be doing this for a while?" At Creed's grin, he muttered something under his breath, then pointed at the small lodge that had been built between the toboggan runs. There was a café inside where one could get hot drinks and sit by a fire. "I'll be in there. Don't get any ideas, I can see you from the window."

Creed nodded. "But can you see my house from there?" As Naizer growled another curse he grinned even more broadly and grabbed the sled's rope. As he ran up to the top of the kiddie slide again he sang happily. "Here we go loop de loop, here we go loop de lie..."

**_.oOo._**

Naizer looked at his watch, then out at the man who was _still_ horsing around outside, though he'd moved from the kiddie slide to the tougher adult one. The madman's stamina was, he had to admit, impressive. He'd been out there for over an hour and a half now, sliding down and running back up. Over and over again, like a toy with its spring wound tight. _Though his nano-machines may have something to do with that._ Naizer was suddenly very glad that he didn't have to fight Creed again. He remembered that nano-machine created were-wolf he'd fought on that disastrous attempt to capture the man and wondered just how much that skinny little body could take.

_Though he was pretty tough even when he was physically normal._ Naizer remembered how long and how hard the young Creed could work, how much energy he'd put into his efforts, as if he somehow needed to push himself far beyond the abilities of most people just to prove himself. Naizer had been careful not to tell the kid that at the time, but while the rest of Creed's personality was about the most irritating thing he'd come across, Creed's physical skills had been remarkable.

Watching Creed slide down, body responding to the speed and twists in the ramp with growing skill, Naizer reflected that - if he'd been sane - Creed would have made a fine Number. He learned physical tasks quickly and handled himself well in a fight. _It's almost too bad. What a waste. What a total waste of a life._ Admittedly, there was something appealing to being allowed to live like an overgrown child, to not have to worry about the important things and to just enjoy life as it came. Appealing but not the way of life Naizer wanted or thought was good for anyone. Duty was far more important.

Two figures walking up to where Creed was about to come down caused Naizer to frown. _What are _those _two doing here?_ He got up hurriedly and grabbed his coat, heading out to join them. He got there just barely before Creed did, meaning that he was in time to see the two men receive a good portion of the spray of snow that fountained up when Creed halted his sled in front of them. _Creed. You stupid..._

Creed stood up and stared wide eyed at the two. "Oh dear. Oops? Sorry?" The last two words were offered weakly, sure sign that he knew how pissed they were.

"Are you sure we can't drown him in the toilet?" Balder asked grimly.

"I'm sure," Krantz answered, equally grim, wiping snow off his helmet.

"What if we let him back up before he drowns?"

"It's a thought."

Blinking at the two Numbers, Creed took a deep breath. "If I let you stick my head in a toilet will you stop threatening it afterwards?"

"They're not going to do anything of the sort and they _know_ it," Naizer said grimly. "What are you two doing here?"

"There's a rumor that a Hoshi member was spotted here," Balder said, glancing at Naizer with an irritated look. He popped his bubblegum and sucked the remnants back into his mouth. "We figured since Diskence was here, we'd ask _him_. Just in case it was a rendezvous."

**_.oOo._**

Creed somehow kept his smile from disappearing. Balder and Krantz were after Sheldon. _I could tell them he was here, but he's left, but..._ That would send the two men hunting elsewhere but the risk that Sheldon hadn't gotten far enough away was fairly high. "I haven't seen any Hoshi members since I quit," he protested. "That was two years ago."

Naizer considered that. "The hotel's practically empty," he pointed out. "It'd be easy to check the guest list. And for God's sake, would you try not to make your usual mess?" He turned back to Creed. "You're sure you haven't seen any Hoshi here?"

"Neither hide, nor hair," Creed answered with assurance. It was the truth, too. Even if Sheldon decided that - with Creed no longer in charge - he could rejoin his former compatriots, he wasn't a Hoshi again yet. He could only hope that creative following of the letter of the law but not the spirit wouldn't be noticed. "Anything else? Got a need for sweet." He pointed towards the café.

Balder and Krantz eyed each other but before they could say anything, Naizer nodded. "About time you finished up. You two can come and keep questioning him if you want, but I doubt you'll get much useful."

The two men frowned as Creed picked up his sled and put it away. He had a sinking feeling that Naizer doubted his honesty as well. Fortunately, possibly for the sake of not starting a fight, the Number was keeping his doubts to himself.

As Creed entered the lodge and sloughed off his ski-suit, Naizer came up beside him. "Who is it?" the man asked quietly. "And don't lie because you suck at it now."

Creed glanced worriedly at the Number as he put his scarf back on and straightened his silk shirt. "A fallen star. Not Hoshi anymore." He forced himself to make sense. "I can't tell them he was here. He's gone anyway. Train and I told him to leave." At Naizer's irritated expression he continued hurriedly, "What do you expect? I don't work for Chronos. I don't even _like_ Chronos. I won't interfere with them if they find Sheldon but I'm not going to help them either." He was speaking so fast that he nearly ran out of breath and he panted to a halt.

"Be quiet." Naizer glanced back over his shoulder. "They're coming. We'll discuss the question later. Suffice it to say that I don't believe you're plotting anything. They would." As relief swept over Creed, Naizer added, "But don't think I'm done with you."

Creed winced.

**_.oOo._**

"He's hiding something." Krantz whispered to his partner grimly.

"You think so?" Balder watched Naizer speaking quietly and urgently to Creed, his tone as grim as Krantz's. As grim and as filled with distrust for the white-haired lunatic. The man's lips were moving so slightly that it was impossible to read them, his body blocking Creed's face. "Naizer thinks so, too, I bet."

What Balder didn't like, though, was that while Naizer obviously knew Diskence was up to something, he wasn't trying to force the man to talk. If anything, his glance at his fellow Numbers suggested that he was going to help conceal whatever it was that the lunatic was keeping to himself. "I think we'd better keep an eye on Diskence. Just in case whomever he's protecting makes contact."

Krantz nodded. "One thing doesn't make sense. If Diskence is trying to make contact with the Hoshi, why would he do so right under Naizer's nose, and why would Naizer let him?" Balder had to agree with the question, but shrugged helplessly in response. At last Krantz continued. "Anyway, let's get inside and dry up. We can have a hot chocolate with our fellow Number and our dearly beloved friend Creed Diskence."

Balder sniggered at the sarcasm.

**_.oOo._**

"And then you have to find your way through an old pirate ship. You get attacked by a giant hawk - I still can't get past that without my GameShark - who can fly higher than you can. Gets really cool, though, when you turn into a demon and start flying around too."

Naizer forced himself not to listen to Creed's blow by blow account of his Playstation game. Fortunately, his audience didn't seem to mind. The young blonde probably had to listen to far worse and far more boringly told life-stories than Creed's animated description of his new game. Particularly when he did so with gestures and perfect imitations of the spoken parts. _He's such a child._

Glancing at his two compatriots, Naizer continued his conversation. "The point remains. Unless you find this Hoshi member - and you're not even sure which one it might be - your usual methods aren't necessary." Those usual methods included an amount of bloodshed rather more extensive than was strictly needed by circumstances. Balder and Krantz enjoyed their work, possibly too much.

"There's a simple solution. Make him tell us who it is and where they are."

Naizer sighed. This was a difficult state of affairs. He couldn't really tell these two what he'd learned. They were sure to assume Creed had deliberately contacted Sheldon, and that was obviously not the case. "In case you haven't noticed, Creed Diskence is as pig-headed as they come. If he doesn't want to tell you something he won't - and no amount of beating will force it out of him." He gave the two men a sharp glare. "And sticking his head in a toilet, used or otherwise, won't help either."

Balder sighed in annoyance but Krantz frowned. "You know, I had the strangest feeling he meant what he said about letting us do it if it meant we'd stop threatening it."

Naizer had to admit he thought so too. "Doesn't make it a good idea," he added. "No matter how tempting it might be." He had to wonder why Creed had made the offer and while he wouldn't have revealed the idea to his fellow Numbers, rather thought it was because being constantly threatened hurt the little lunatic's feelings. Naizer shrugged the thought off. Understanding what went on in that fluffy white head wasn't really his job. Keeping that fluffy white head from getting in trouble was. _Isn't my job to make him feel all loved and cared for either._

Balder was about to speak when a high moaning sound rose somewhere outside the building. Naizer lifted his head and looked over at the bartender, whose face had paled. "Avalanche warning, right?" He remembered reading about that in the brochure. The high pitched sirens were set at a frequency least likely to set off more avalanches and were used to warn when there were slides that might put the lower areas at risk.

"Yes sir." The man went to the doorway and glanced outside, then sighed in relief. "We're the only ones up here. We should go downstairs - there's a tunnel system connecting to the chalet. It's safer there then it is here."

Creed's voice quavered momentarily. "What about the mountain lodge?" He glanced at Naizer then out the window towards the mountain. "That's where..."

Naizer nodded, Sven and the others were supposed to head up the trail that way an hour ago. "I know. They're smart enough. They'll take precautions." He got to his feet and started towards the stairway the barman had indicated. A soft choking sound came from the pale-haired lunatic and Naizer realized Creed was still staring up the mountainside. "I said come _on_!" He grabbed his charge by the nape of the neck, intending to drag him along, only to realize it wasn't just Creed staring but everyone else. He followed their gaze.

"Oh. Crap."

Barreling down at them from the heights was a wall of snow.

**_.oOoOoOo. _**

Train moaned and pulled himself upright. The last thing he remembered was being grabbed and thrown clear by Sven's hand, then explosive sounds somewhere high above them. He could feel Sven behind him, breathing hard and in a panicked sort of way. "Eve?"

"Up here," Eve's voice said and he realized their partner was using hastily formed wings to keep her above the rush of snow. "Are you two okay? I would have grabbed one of you if I'd been closer."

"It's okay, Eve, thanks to Sven." Train glanced over his shoulder. "Partner?"

"I think it's high time I learned how to use the Eye properly," Sven grumbled from underneath a pile of snow. "I might have avoided this mess entirely if I paid better attention to it." His hand shoved weakly at the snow and Train realized that his partner had instinctively covered his body with a thick layer of nano-machines to keep himself from being injured. That hand was gleaming a pale silver in the snow.

Eve landed beside Train. "We were right at the edge," she said quietly. "Luckily." Looking upwards at the lodge, she frowned. "I think that thing had help." She formed a shovel and began digging Sven out.

Nodding, Train used his hands to scoop more snow off his partner. "Oh, look. He's so shiny I can see myself!" He peered into the mirror finish on Sven's face, grinning with relief.

"VE...ry funny Train..." Sven lowered his voice quickly, apparently realizing that he risked causing a new avalanche. "I agree, Eve. It's not the usual season for avalanches and it hasn't even been all that warm." He worked his way out from under the snow and finally stood up, shedding a fine dust of nano-machine skeletons as he did so. Then he sat down. Hard. "Whoa. Headrush."

"You okay?" Train knelt beside his friend, worried.

Eve nodded. "He used more nano-machines than he's used to. Remember when I used to pass out if I overdid it?" She put a hand on Sven's arm and nodded again, more to herself this time, her air that of a doctor examining a patient. "He'll be fine."

"Yeah. Just dandy." Sven looked at Train. "Did you hear some sort of explosion a bit before the avalanche?" At Train's nod, Sven glanced up at the lodge, or rather where the lodge had been. "Then I think Eve's right. That slide had help."

**_.oOoOoOo. _**

Silence filled the air. The sort of silence that could only follow a sound so vast as to overwhelm every sense. The sort of silence that suggested that nothing was left behind. Creed, tumbled underneath rocks and snow, realized it was also the sort of silence that came of having been temporarily deafened.

Cautiously, Creed took a breath and was relieved when it came without pain, or rather without much pain. _Now. How exactly did this happen? Oh, yes. The avalanche._ There'd been just barely enough time. He and the others had made a wild rush for the stairs and had somehow managed to make their way into the basement before the avalanche had hit, ripping the lodge from its foundations and spilling snow and the shattered remnants of the building on top of them.

Opening his eyes, Creed found himself lying in darkness, lit only faintly by a blue tinted light coming through a hole somewhere above. The basement had - mostly - survived the snow crashing in on it, the solid roof holding back the worst of the slide. The room was filled with shattered cement and snow only on one side. _Train. Oh God, Train. Please be alive._ He wondered if his sense of Train's existence, his conviction that Train was indeed all right, was merely his own madness showing its unwillingness to admit to any other possibility.

"Quit that whimpering and help me." Naizer's voice cut through the silence, softer to Creed's deafened ears than it probably really was. Creed searched around and found the man half buried beneath the snow, a block of stone trapping him.

Blinking away tears, Creed forced himself to his feet, swaying a little as broken ribs protested. He could feel them healing as he moved. "Hold still. Very still." Adrenaline and the associated endorphins were surging through his system and synapses connected. He held his hand out, focusing his _ki_ into the Imagine Blade, then pushing himself a bit harder. _Level Two. _

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT!"

"Hold still," Creed reminded Naizer. "I don't want to hurt you." He looked at Kotetsu, at the sharpened fangs that formed his Imagine Blade's mouth. The eye that met his reflected himself, confused and bewildered and more than a little excited. "Very still. This isn't easy."

Cautiously, Kotetsu giggling softly to himself, Creed worked the blade between Naizer and the stone that trapped him, the shape of the weapon twisting its way along as it slowly cut Naizer free of his prison. At last, with a gasp of relief, Creed sliced the last bit of stone free and released his blade, dropping to his knees in exhaustion. "Push it off, now."

With an angry grunt, Naizer pushed and shoved at the rock trapping him, then pulled himself out from under the remaining snow. "Does that thing have to giggle like that?"

"It's an exciting option," Creed whispered and forced himself back to his feet. "The others?"

Naizer was searching around the room. "Here's Balder. He's okay, just stunned." As Creed watched, Naizer pulled his fellow Chronos agent over to a safer spot. "That bartender's here. Unconscious too. Got a broken leg but I think he'll be all right." Rising and staring into the pile of snow, Naizer frowned. "No sign of Krantz."

A sigh escaped Creed's lips. There was no help for it, then. "I'll find him." As Naizer stared at him, Creed summoned Kotetsu once again.

**_.oOo. _**

Watching the crazed menace to sanity work through the snow, giggling all the way, Naizer reflected that he was very glad not to have to fight with Creed Diskence again. He'd seen the Imagine Blade at work and the fact that it was currently on his side didn't make things any better from his point of view. _It's even scarier because Creed himself is about the calmest I've ever seen him._

He turned his gaze on the man wielding the Imagine Blade. _This is what he might have been, if he'd been sane,_ he thought. _Dangerously capable and completely in control._ It was frightening and almost exhilarating to see. He wondered if this was what had drawn the Hoshi to Creed in the first place, that utter strength of personality that - despite all the damage done to it - had been able to stay its course. For that matter, without the madness, without the obsession and the shattered mind, Creed Diskence might have become a true power in Chronos. _This is a man one could follow. _

"This is not a state of mind to admire, Naizer." Creed's voice was grim and cold. "What is the point of living like this?" He glanced Naizer's way and the look in his eyes was sheer unadulterated agony. "What joy does this give you? The joy of being the one in control? The joy of the kill, like those two? The joy of bullying those weaker than you? What good does it do?" Tears filled his eyes and spilled down over Creed's cheek. "Where are you when you're done? Who cares if you live or die?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll have helped make the world a better place..."

"For whom? For you? For those three old geezers who want the world for themselves and are willing to send killers like yourself to get it? Ask Leon sometime what he thinks of this world. Or Sheldon. Or Shiki. There's a reason the Hoshi hate Chronos and all you stand for." Creed took a deep breath. "What sort of rulers use fear and death to sustain their rule? What sort of rulers use someone like _me_ as a weapon? Ask yourself that, sometime, Number Five. They _knew_ I was mad. They knew what I was. And. They. _Still_. Used. Me."

"Your madness was the sort they thought they could use," Naizer pointed out. "Not that different from Balder and Krantz', really." He didn't like that aspect of Chronos but he had to acknowledge that sometimes fear, shock and awe were the only things the forces of chaos could understand.

Creed's black eyes met his, still filled with tears and yet horrifying in the cold emptiness of their expression. "Indeed? And - like them - if it were up to me I would leave your compatriots, and you, where you lie - to freeze to death while I go about my business. So which would you prefer I be? The cold and deadly leader of men, heartless and efficient, or the fool and the mountebank?"

As Naizer struggled to find an adequate answer Creed suddenly paused and that frighteningly sweet smile crossed his face. "Oh. I've found him." He blinked. "Such language, Krantz. Really. Kotetsu's only a few years old. You shouldn't talk like that in front of him."

**_.oOo. _**

Krantz struggled the last few feet out of the trap of snow and rocks that had held him, working his way through the tunnel created by that damned sword. He snarled at Creed. "Does that... that _thing_ have to giggle at me like that?"

"You all keep asking that. Of course he does." Creed's voice was sweetly bewildered. "He is a reflection of my personality. My very soul, given the form that is what little remains of my mind. When he giggles, it's because I'm happy, or think I am. When he weeps..."

Krantz took a step back. Creed in this state of mind was a sound not for the faint of heart. _How is he managing to control himself?_ Shoving that thought out of his head, Krantz searched through the chill area for Naizer, a dim 'light' in the cold. "Balder?"

"Unconscious, as is the bartender." His fellow Number's voice had an odd note, confused and disturbed at the same time. What _had_ Creed been doing to break even Naizer's composure?

Creed turned. "The door to the tunnel is over there. Kotetsu found it while he was hunting for Krantz. You two carry those two. We should be leaving, now." Without bothering to wait for an answer he turned and walked to the side of the room and began slicing snow and stone out of the way.

After a long moment of staring after the man, Krantz shrugged and went to get his unconscious partner. Naizer picked up the bartender and walked to where Creed was standing. "One of you surely has a flashlight?" The pale-haired man pointed into the darkness of the tunnel beyond.

Krantz searched his partner's pockets and pulled a small mag-lite out, putting it in Creed's outstretched hand. It occurred to him that he was being awfully cooperative, but there was just something about Creed's tone and attitude that made him unable to do anything else. A kind of overwhelming sense of personality that he'd never felt from the man before. _Of course, the first time I met him was when he was completely mad. Or mad in a different way._ This Creed wasn't any saner, just easier to put up with, without the blithering nonsense. _Though I don't think I want to find out what happens if I refuse to listen to him._

"How long can you stay like that?" Naizer asked as Creed led the way through the tunnel. "You haven't had to use your training for a sustained period in a while."

Creed sighed softly. "I have no idea. I want to find Train. I _have_ to find Train. I can't _do_ without Train." He shuddered suddenly and Kotetsu whined softly, a keening little cry of sadness. "Sorry. That's... the obsession talking. I can sustain, I think, as long as I don't have to fight. I'm so tired..."

"There's no reason to be fighting," Naizer said. "It's just an avalanche. You could probably put the sword away, too. That'll give you more time to stay clear-headed, right?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. I forgot." The sword disappeared, much to Krantz' relief. Then Creed shuddered again, his teeth chattering suddenly and uncontrollably. Krantz blinked and realized just how thinly the man must be dressed. He could see the heat signature rising from Creed's body, brilliant in the chill air. _The pants aren't so bad and he's still got his boots on, but that shirt..._ Whatever the material was, it was very thin. Creed's body was trembling and his upper torso was losing heat fast.

**_.oOo. _**

Naizer frowned, annoyed at the boy for not speaking up. "Creed. Take my jacket. That shirt's too light for this cold."

"I don't need it."

"Take it." Naizer stopped, setting his burden down and pulling off his suit coat.

"I don't need it. I'm not that cold." Creed kept moving, but Naizer grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stop. "I said..."

"Sephiria said we couldn't kill him, Naizer. She didn't say anything about letting him die of his own stupidity." Krantz returned the glare Creed gave him with interest, though much of his expression lost something when half hidden beneath his helmet.

"I'm not being stupid, I..."

"TAKE THE GODDAMN COAT BEFORE YOU FREEZE YOUR STUPID ASS OFF!" Naizer threw the jacket at Creed. It hit the man in his face and seemed to knock the sense back into him. A strange little smile, half frightened, half conciliatory, crossed the pale-haired man's face and he backed up from Naizer, eyes wide and a bit scared. It was an expression Naizer had seen on his face before, the frightened-little-boy look that he used to get when Naizer got mad at him back in the old days. _Which was pretty damned often. _

"I don't want you to freeze, Creed," Naizer added more quietly. "You don't have to like having to accept my help, but if you don't want to die of exposure before you see Train again you'll stop letting your balls talk over what's left of your brain." Oddly, finding himself back in the position of command after Creed's momentary take-over was something of a relief. Just as it was something of a relief to see the more easily cowed and fragile personality taking over. _Some things are better left alone,_ he thought.

Creed sighed and nodded, sliding the coat. His nostrils flared, then pinched together as if he were trying to avoid a scent. "Let's go."

**_.oOo. _**

The tunnel wended its way through the solid rock of the mountain, a carefully carved escape path that was too deep for an avalanche to affect. Creed, leading the way through the chill passage way, felt rather like they were driving their way deeper into the mountain, rather than escaping. Only the constant chill breeze flowing from behind them was a comfort. There had to be an opening ahead. _Please let there be an opening ahead._

"There will be," Krantz said quietly behind him and Creed realized he'd spoken aloud. Again. It was such a terrible habit. Before Creed could answer, though, Krantz reached out and grabbed his arm. "Listen."

In the silence that followed, Creed swallowed. "Gunfire," he whispered, focusing his attention on his hearing. From somewhere in the distance he could hear the faint echo of shots being fired. A man's voice, screaming in pain. "Damnit."

"It might be Train and the others," Naizer pointed out but Creed shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because, I'd know the sound of Hades firing. There's nothing in the world like it." It was disappointing, too, because it meant he still had to worry about his beloved. He clung to that feeling inside, that sense that Train _was_ okay, even though he knew it was probably just a madman's dream. _Please. For once let my instincts be right about him._ Creed put his hand to his forehead, whimpering a little. His head was starting to hurt.

"What's wrong?" Krantz' low voice was mildly concerned - though Creed suspected it was due to the situation rather than anxiety for himself.

"My brain hurts." Sinking down to the floor, Creed moaned. "...can't... ...can't..." Dimly he was aware of Naizer setting his burden down again and kneeling beside him. "Should go in. Should stop what's going on. I can't..." The effort to hold on was too much. He curled up into a ball and sobbed. "I'll do something bad. I know I will."

Naizer's hand was on his shoulder, struggling to pull him upright. The man's aggravated voice in his ear wasn't helping. He needed to rest. He needed to retreat. He needed... _TRAIN._

**_.oOoOoOo. _**

Making his way down the mountain side, Train paused to stare at the damage. The chalet and its surroundings had been hidden by a twist in the pathway but now the result of those slides was obvious. "Creed. He was going to be at the toboggan run..." He felt a surge of fear as he stared at the snow that had obliterated both the runs and the lodge that had sat below them. _No. He can't be dead. I'd know if he was dead. _

Sven looked as sick to his stomach as Train felt. "I don't... don't know."

Train started down the slope faster, only to stop when Eve grasped his arm. "Eve, we have to get down there. People need our help. _Creed_ may be alive and trapped." That the last was the most important was something he forced himself not to consider.

Eve pointed at the chalet. Protected by a fortified wall and by its position atop a rise beside the mountain, the worst that had happened was that the slide had blocked the road. There were people moving about outside and at first Train thought they were just gawking at the damage. Then he realized they were in what appeared to be dark reddish-brown combat suits. He couldn't see them very clearly, but what he could see worried him.

Pulling out his binoculars, Sven examined the scene. "Damn. Three men. The uniform looks the same as those guys Creed met at Madame Freesia's. No bodies. Looks more like a hostage situation."

Train took a deep breath. He was still very worried about Creed but if their friend was under all that snow he was either dead or very nearly so. _And I don't believe he's there. I refuse to believe he's under that._ "Okay. Let's get down there and see what we can do."

Before he could start moving, Eve touched Train's arm. "Try phoning him." As Train blinked at her, she pointed to his pocket and he realized what she meant.

"A bit risky," Sven pointed out. "What if he's hiding somewhere?"

Eve shook her head. "He's got his phone on vibrate, like we do." As Sven raised a brow, she pointed out, "I figured he should act like he's working even if he isn't."

It was somehow both humorous and touching that Eve would treat the matter so seriously. "Good job," was all Train said, however, as he pulled his phone out and dialed Creed's.

**_.oOoOoOo. _**

Naizer leaned against the wall and watched Creed toss and turn with his usual wild abandon. _Exhausted to the point of collapse and he _still_ can't keep from jerking around like that._ He had to wonder how the man managed to rest at all when his body refused to lay still.

Krantz, who was keeping an eye out for their unknown enemy, glanced Naizer's way. "Maybe we should tie him up and gag him?"

"No."

"He keeps whining like that, he's going to attract attention."

_It's true. But if he can rest long enough to get his brain functioning again, we might have a chance at getting out of this._ Naizer shook his head. "They probably know about the tunnel. If they haven't checked it out it means they're just waiting to see if anyone comes through. Balder's wrecking ball could help here, but since he's still out cold, Creed's the only one with any sort of distance weapon."

"Given we can trust him to keep his head on straight," Krantz nodded agreement. "So, how long do we give him?"

"I don't want Balder and this other fellow to stay down here in this cold too long. Fifteen more minutes." Naizer looked at the other two men, knowing that the longer they stayed in this chill air, the more likely they would die of their injuries. He was about to say something more when he realized something was buzzing, very softly, in Creed's pants pocket. Realizing what it was, he hurried to try and reach it before it stopped.

Creed's hand came up and slapped Naizer across the face. "Keep your hands to yerself, suhr! I hahdly know you!" he said in English, words oddly accented. Then his eyes focused a bit better and he sat up. "Oh... Oops."

"Answer your damned phone, brat!" Much of Naizer's irritation was with himself, though. He ought to have expected Creed to overreact. _ Should consider myself lucky he didn't come up with his Imagine Blade, or using that left arm for God knows what._

Creed pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the display. "I missed it." He looked confused for a moment, still groggy from his so-called nap, and his tone was disappointed. Then he pushed a button on the front and his expression shifted to a look of joy. "It was _Train._ He called me. He's okay!" He hit another button and held the phone to his ear, clutching it like a lifeline.

Somehow, Naizer was very glad. He wasn't sure what Creed would do if Train were killed. Whatever it was, he had a feeling it would be very, very bad for someone. As Creed's eyes lit up and tears started flowing down his cheeks Naizer sighed in relief and waited to find out what the situation was.

**_.oOo. _**

Creed forced back deep sobs. "Oh... Train..."

"Easy, Creed. I know." Train's voice was a bit unsteady, probably due to the static on the line. "What's your situation?"

Taking a deep breath helped and Creed managed to tell his beloved what had happened. He finished with, "What... what should we do?"

"Have Naizer or Krantz give themselves up with the two injured. They can't stay in the cold. You stay hidden with whomever's left, sleep for a while. I'll phone you when or if we need backup." As Creed stared at the phone, wide-eyed, Train continued, "Hand the phone to Naizer. I'll tell him."

"But..."

"It's obviously not a mass-kill situation. There'd have been a lot more gunfire and we'd have heard it up here. These people are after something or someone specific. That means the hostages should be safe for the moment." Train added, comfortingly. "Once you've rested you should be able to handle things if we need help. Okay?"

Creed sighed. He didn't like the idea and he knew the other two were going to hate it. Still, he needed to rest longer. He'd never be able to handle the stress of fighting if he tried to do something now. "Okay." He held out the phone to Naizer and lay back down, hugging himself happily. His Cat was safe and that was all that mattered to him.

Dimly, Creed was aware of Naizer arguing with the man on the phone, but he was too tired to contemplate the reason for the man's anger. He curled up, making a face at the scent of Naizer in the coat he wore, and closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him again. _He trusts me. Please don't let me screw it up. _

**_.oOo._**

_Damnit. It's Naizer's job to watch the brat. So why am _I_ here?_ Krantz glanced sideways at Creed's heat signature. The lunatic was kneeling on the other side of the doorway, posture intent as he listened to what was going on inside. Right now the man seemed calm, competent and totally in control. If Krantz hadn't known Creed in his more manic moods he wouldn't have been worried. As it was, he kept waiting for the giggling psycho to show himself.

The trouble was, while Krantz could have managed carrying Balder he couldn't have handled the barman as well. He, himself, could have cared less but Naizer had been insistent. That was the trouble with Number Five. He worried a bit too much about collateral damage. _You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, can you?_ It occurred to Krantz that that was the other reason Naizer had left him behind, to keep his natural temper from creating what the other Number liked to call a 'situation'.

"Someone's coming." Creed's whisper broke through Krantz' worried thoughts. "Get ready."

_And who died and made him boss?_ Somehow, when Creed had woken from his nap, the man had managed to convince him that it was high time they did something to help out. Of course, it'd been a choice between wrestling the man to the ground and tying him up - not a prospect to look forward to - or letting him go. _Well,_ Krantz admitted to himself, _that and sitting around in the cold waiting for rescue isn't exactly my cup of tea either._

The door opened slowly, but no one was standing in the doorway. Krantz could sense body heat beyond, his infrared sensors showing him three human shapes in the room. He gestured at Creed, using the silent code he knew the former Chronos agent would know, _One on the left, two on the right._

Creed nodded and gestured in return. _On my count. Go low. One. Two. Three._ As his hand made the final motion Krantz rolled into the room beyond and dodged sideways, evading the gunfire easily. He came up on his feet, dodged again and drove his blade deep into the throat of one of the men attacking him. Spinning around to take on another man, he watched their stunned expressions as their gun barrels fell apart.

"What th..."

"If you surrender now you'll be all right." Creed's voice was calm, but it didn't stop the two men from spinning and rushing at him. There was a flurry of motion and the next thing Krantz knew, Creed had leapt over the two and spun around. His left hand was raised in a gesture Krantz had seen before. _Ecthelon? Janos?_ Then that hand twisted sideways and the two men stopped short, every inch of their clothing stripped away as if by threads as fine was those extruded from Janos' glove, their weapons falling apart as well. "I repeat. Surrender and you'll be all right."

**_.oOo._**

Once their two opponents had been tied up, Creed turned to look at Krantz. "I can't control you and I'm not in a position to stop you. But please. Don't kill anyone anymore?" His voice was shaking more than he wanted it to, trembling with reaction. _I should have knocked him out and left him behind._

"This isn't a game."

"No. It isn't." Creed swallowed, "_I_ don't care about people dying. But that's part of what's _wrong_ with me. You're normal. You don't have a missing chunk of brain tissue to excuse yourself. Don't go around killing and pretending it doesn't matter." He felt like crying. He wanted so much to be able to understand, to really feel inside what it was to value a life. "You have a soul. You're capable of understanding. How can you throw it away so casually?"

Krantz just stared at him and Creed sighed, speaking in a more steady voice. _Sometimes you just have to make the stakes high enough._ "Let me put it this way. If you kill anyone else I'll strip you as bare as I stripped _them_."

"You... wouldn't dare."

"Yes. I would. Yes. I will."

Krantz' lips tightened and he growled. "You do and I _will_ stick your head in a toilet."

"Fine. As long as you're not killing anyone, I don't care what you do to me." That wasn't entirely true, but Creed didn't care if Krantz knew how much the thought disgusted him. _No more killing. Somehow. Please._

At last Krantz shrugged. "Whatever. Let's go."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Train moved slowly into position, preparing himself. Somewhere behind the chalet Sven was doing the same. Eve was already inside, having flown in from above and gone down the chimney. It was her reconnaissance that had given them a working plan.

_Now._ Train pulled out some of his stun bombs and tossed them through the window of the café. Inside he could hear shouts of dismay from the men who were on watch. Further away he could hear other explosions and he knew Sven was doing much the same thing he was. Meanwhile, in the meeting room on the second floor, Eve was doing her thing to the men guarding the hostages.

Into the building, Hades firing off stun bullets and taking men down left and right, Train dashed through the chaos. One after another fell and Train grinned with excitement. Admittedly, it was an excitement mildly tinged with worry over Creed, but his friend was safe enough, down in the basement.

_Whoops. Unexpected._ Train found himself coming up on a barricade at the top of the grand stairs leading to the second floor. Either the Princess had missed this one or the noises from downstairs had caused these terrorists to hurriedly dig in their heels. He dodged backwards, just in time, as a hail of bullets narrowly missed him. _This is a problem._

Hiding behind a wall, Train considered his options and picked off a mook who was attempting to work his way into a clear shot by coming around the walkway that surrounded the chalet's entrance hall. He'd have to move fast, find another way to the second floor.

Before he could act, though, a very familiar voice echoed through room. "Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our English dead!" Looking upwards, Train saw his housemate standing on the balcony across from him, Kotetsu giggling in his right hand, his left arm shaped into a shield that - unsurprisingly - had a cat's face on it. _Oh for..._

Bullets pinged into the shield, ricocheting all over. At least one made it past, digging a bloody furrow in Creed's right cheek. "Hey. Ouch. That hurts."

Train bopped himself on the forehead, then rolled out from cover and headed for a spot underneath the stairs where the mooks were hunkered down. Creed's voice, once more declaiming Shakespeare, was strained only by the madman's efforts to dodge the gunfire. "CRY HAVOC AND LET LOOSE THE CATS OF WAR!" With those words the man leapt onto the rail, swinging Kotetsu. The Imagine Blade cut through the enemy's barrier, scattering it to the four winds, howling joyously.

_Now._ Train leapt for the balcony, stun grenades in his free hand. He swung himself over and wasted no time in throwing them into the small crowd. As the things exploded, he made a leap that carried him across the room and over to Creed. The man was bleeding here and there from where his sword and shield had failed to protect him, standing stock still in wide eyed admiration of 'his' Cat. Train grabbed him quickly, knocking him over and down to the floor as the final grenade, hurriedly placed under the stairway, went off.

**_.oOo._**

Creed pressed his face into Train's shirt, the scent of the man overwhelming the less pleasant scent of Naizer's now discarded jacket. Then he hurriedly pulled away. "Sorry."

Train glanced over to the wreckage he'd left behind. "Sven's not going to like that. Oh well. They're down anyway." Then his gold eyes glared at Creed. "Now. You."

"Uhm... Did I do something bad? I didn't kill anybody."

Train flicked Creed in the middle of the forehead with his forefinger. "You. You... You..."

It occurred to Creed that Sven would have hit him for fooling around at such a dangerous time, that Train was fighting a similar urge. Hopefully, he offered, "Idiot? Dork? Moron?" Maybe he could defuse the situation before Train forgot that he couldn't take that sort of treatment. Not yet, at least.

To Creed's relief, a soft, reluctant, chuckle escaped Train's lips. "Now I know how Sven feels. Guess I deserve to." He shook his head. "Doofus. You don't have to put yourself in that much danger just to provide a distraction. I would have figured a way in."

"I got carried away in the excitement," Creed admitted. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he _had_ realized how dangerous what he was doing was, but it had also been so much _fun_ that he couldn't help himself. "I'm never going to work in this town again, am I?"

Now Train really _did_ laugh. "We'll have to do some situational training before the next job," he said, smiling. "Though, really, for what was supposed to be a simple job for _us_, it did turn out to be quite a bit more. All things considered, I don't think you did that badly."

Krantz, who'd been forced by all the gunfire to hang back, came up. "Aside from being so damned namby pamby about killing, that is."

"You're just sore 'cause I promised to pants you if you killed anyone else." Creed got to his feet, and shook several bullets free of his sleeve. His wounds were healing nicely, forcing the things out of his flesh.

"You're a spoilsport, that's what you are." Krantz made a face and Creed just grinned at him.

Train raised a brow, but said nothing except, "Come on. Let's go finish wiping up the mess. _Without_ killing, Krantz. Or I'll _let_ Creed pants you."

"I take that back. You are _both_ spoilsports."

**_.oOo._**

"No. I don't know how he managed to stay in control, but he didn't kill anyone, Sephiria." Naizer gazed down at the police cars carting away the terrorists who'd attacked the chalet with a sour look. Behind him, Eve and Creed were arguing over a two person Playstation game while Sven growled at Train over the mess he'd created. _Thank God they're not ours anymore._

"Then you think he's safe?" Sephiria's tone was doubtful.

"Safe? No. I think the little maniac is more likely to get himself killed than kill anyone else, though. He'd never make it on his own. Without someone to keep him on track he'd wind up falling over his feet and ending up dead." Naizer paused. "On the other hand, he's pretty committed to keeping his promise to Train. I don't think he's going to be a danger to anyone else."

"Balder and Krantz say he _did_ contact a Hoshi member."

"As near as I can tell, it was a chance meeting and he simply didn't want to betray someone who'd been a compatriot. I think it was that Sheldon guy, and we already know he quit." Naizer shrugged, though he knew Sephiria couldn't see it. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides, next time we can have someone else watching for Hoshi people and if they contact him, follow. He might make good bait."

Sephiria considered that for a long moment. "It's still against my better judgment, but... very well. Unless we see signs to the contrary we will continue as if he is reasonably controlled."

Naizer glanced back at the giggling maniac behind him. "Understood." As he hung up he shook his head. _Against her better judgment and mine. Not because I think he's ever going back to the crazed megalomaniac but because he's just not the type of person who should be put in a position of responsibility like this._ Still, it was Sven, Train and Eve's call and he was just glad he didn't have to deal with the consequences.

**_.oOo._**

Sven glanced over at where Creed was playing his game with Eve, then sighed. "Well, it worked out," he admitted. "And I can't think of anything he could have done better, except maybe sitting tight."

"We both know he couldn't have." Train's eyes on his friend were amused. "That's why we gave him that license in the first place. And he didn't do too badly, after all."

With a nod, Sven smiled wryly. "No. Though I think you're teaching him bad habits. Still, I suppose your bad habits are better than his old ones. Would he really have pantsed Krantz, you think?"

"I'm certain of it. So was Krantz." A broad grin crossed Train's face. "Best way to get to a man like that. Through his dignity." At Sven's laugh, Train continued, "Still, all things considered, I think Creed's best off sticking with us next time around. Just to keep him out of trouble."

Sven gave Train a look. "Between you and him, trouble is going to be inexorably drawn straight to us." He sighed at the look in Train's eyes. "Yeah, I know. It just means the jobs come to us instead. At least _he_ didn't blow up half the building trying to get to you." After a long moment, Sven nodded, eyes on the pale-haired figure excitedly trying to get his skier down the hill faster than the pale-haired girl in black who was far ahead of his icon in the monitor. Eve's icon bore a more than passing resemblance to the girl herself, for she was literally inserting her 'self' into the game with the help of a nano-machine 'cable' formed from her hair. "Okay. I think you're right. Naizer's not a very good baby-sitter, anyway."

Train's expression soured a bit. "Naizer makes him too nervous. I don't want him browbeaten - especially not on the job. He's just getting an ego back. I don't want him to be all puffed up and self-important but he doesn't need to be cowed and defeated either."

That was something Sven agreed with wholeheartedly. Naizer had tried, but Creed wasn't easy to deal with. "All right. Then we're agreed. Next job he goes with us." _And, as Naizer says, 'May God have mercy on our souls.'_

To Be Continued...


	56. Intermezzo: Questions

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**INTERMEZZO: Annealment House - Questions **_

_February 1st, 2005_

Doctor Jones shuffled papers a bit nervously as he eyed the young, the terribly young, woman bearing an elaborate roman numeral one on her forehead. Between her presence and that of her bodyguard, Belze, he was feeling more than a bit scared. Only Train's attendance kept that fear under control. He was in the presence of killers and he knew it only too well.

"The question is, do we have anything to fear from Creed's momentary relapse into training?" Sephiria's eyes were direct and intent. The mind behind them was sharp, the intelligence required of someone leading a band of world-class assassins. It was hard to believe she was less than thirty years old.

Realizing that he was distracting himself with the details, Jones straightened. "I discussed the matter with him earlier today. While I won't say that there's nothing to worry about, I don't think that this was a relapse of the sort that will cause you trouble." He remembered the conversation. The fear in Creed's voice, the terror that he might have stepped too far over the edge and would lose the thing he valued most. He'd been intrigued to realize that that 'thing' wasn't just Train anymore, but the lifestyle Creed had been permitted.

Sephiria was still watching him and Jones continued, "He asked to discuss it. I think it scared him as much as it scared your agents." The woman frowned at the idea that any of her people might be afraid of something. Jones shook his head. "They had every reason to be concerned. As Creed is now, should he revert, the damage he could do will be impressive."

It was risky, discussing the matter so frankly with someone who had no reason to trust Creed and who would probably have preferred a more permanent solution. The wrong word could mean not only Creed's death but his own, because he knew entirely too much about Chronos for their comfort. It was only because he was helping keep Creed from causing trouble that his life was safe. Safer.

Train spoke up. "Will reverting at all cause him to do something impressive?" He didn't look nearly as worried as Jones felt. If anything, his expression suggested that he didn't believe anything of the sort.

"He said that he focused on what you'd want him to do. That, even though he didn't feel any need to save Naizer or Balder or Krantz, it was what you'd do, so that's what he did." Jones frowned, "Considering that his judgment of how to react is so skewed, it's probably for the best that he's choosing to use your conscience as his guide." Train might be childish and emotionally undeveloped but he recognized that people's lives mattered and that was probably the only thing that was keeping Creed under control.

"And if Train is hurt or injured?" Sephiria asked quietly.

Jones shook his head. "That's impossible to predict. The best I can say is to keep teaching him. Keep trying to help him control himself. And hope."

To Be Continued...


	57. Uninvited Guests

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Uninvited Guests **_

February 24th, 2005

"Aren't you two ready yet?" Sven tapped his foot, looked at his watch and sighed. Creed he would have expected this dawdling from. Give the man a chance to dress up pretty and he'd make everything he could out of it. Eve, on the other hand, wasn't the sort to worry about such things.

Slumped in his chair, sulking, Train grumbled at the young woman curled up on the couch, a heavy robe around her, tissue paper filled basket at her side and a pot of tea on the table in front of her, "This is your fault." He tugged at his collar, trying to loosen the red bow tie that Sven had had to practically force him into. His white tuxedo was pristine and perfectly pressed but Sven held no hopes for its remaining that way. _Any more than mine. There's a reason I don't mind wrinkles. _

"Id ids dot." Rinslet sneezed and Sven couldn't help but feel sympathy for her situation. This job would have been incredibly simple for her under ordinary circumstances. No need to pull in outsiders, no need to trust others to complete her assignment. No need to share the reward. _And that, I think, must rankle most._ "No one sbaid you had du do dbis anbd I bdidn't catch dis cold on bupus."

Before Sven could comment that no one caught colds on purpose, the sound of a voice drew Sven's attention back upstairs. A pale haired figure was stepping back from Eve's doorway, speaking to the girl inside. "I'll tell them you're almost ready."

Sven couldn't help but feel a moment of déjà vu. From behind, Creed's black swallow-tail tuxedo reminded him of the outfit the little madman had once worn when he'd ruled the Hoshi. Only when he turned from the doorway did the effect lessen. The high collared silk shirt and white lace cravat created the elegant effect of an Edwardian gentlemen. It didn't succeed in making Creed look normal but Sven thought it managed to keep the man from looking like he was about to leap onto a balustrade and start quoting Shakespeare as he tried to take over the world.

"How's Eve doing?" Sven asked as Creed came down the steps. He still was not at all sure he liked the fact that the girl was in there with Xiao Li. All right, yes, Xiao Li had outright stated that he wasn't interested in her. Yes, he claimed interest in Creed - for reasons Sven didn't really understand. Yes, if anyone could help a young girl work out the mysteries of formal female dress it would be Xiao Li. And Sven still didn't like it. Not at all.

The door to Eve's room opened and the young woman who stepped out was so elaborately and carefully coiffured that - for a moment - Sven didn't even recognize her. Her gown was black with fine threads of red embroidery, similar to, but not quite the same as the rose and cat design on Creed's waistcoat. Her movements as she made her way down the stairs were smooth and poised, telling him that Xiao Li had been coaching her in that as well.

Sven found himself staring down at the girl, shocked into silence. There was nothing spectacular about what she wore - the gown lacked many of the ruffles and laces that would have been typical of such an outfit - instead it was subtly and cunningly designed to display its wearer without trumpeting her presence. She looked, to be terrifyingly frank, beautiful.

Half-way down the steps, Eve stopped and gazed at him, almost challengingly, before walking over to where Creed was waiting for her. At the top of the stairs, Xiao Li grinned down at Sven. "It's like having a giant Barbie doll to play with," the younger man remarked. "All I have to do is show her how it's worn and she can take it from there."

_I don't _want _to know exactly how Xiao Li showed her how to wear that,_ Sven thought to himself wryly, even as he continued to gaze at the girl. When did she get so tall, anyway? And she was filling out, unless she'd added to her body structure in certain areas. _Surely not._ Somehow he forced himself not to ask.

"That's marvelous, Eve. I like the way your embroidery's the same color as mine, but different," Creed said happily. Sven wished he hadn't said that, though they'd all agreed that Creed would act as Eve's escort for this evening's festivities, while Sven and Train both concealed themselves behind waiters' uniforms. "Train, doesn't she look wonderful? Look, she has little wings and cherry blossoms all over." There was a hopeful look on his face and it occurred to Sven that he really wanted Train to notice what _he_ was wearing. _Good luck there, though. _

"Marvelous," Train muttered, obviously still annoyed at being stuck in the very tight fitting monkey suit that Madame Fresia's waiters were wearing to the party. Creed gave him an unhappy look, then sighed and turned away, obviously swallowing back his yearning.

"Sven?" Eve asked, waiting.

"You look nice, Eve," Sven managed to say, thru a throat that suddenly felt very tight. "Are we all ready?"

**_.oOo._**

Somehow, Eve managed to keep her annoyance to herself. Nice indeed. She looked better than nice and she knew it. She glanced at Creed, who was smiling foolishly at her. Before the white haired man could say something, though, Sven paused, glanced at her and winced. "Er... I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. You look beautiful, Eve."

"Nice afterthought, Sven," Train muttered and Eve glared at him. He didn't have to point that out, did he?"

Sven sighed. "It just... startled me... to see you like that," he said. "I'm sorry, I should have said so first."

Eve decided to forgive him. This time. "Should we go over the plan," she asked, tentatively. It wasn't that they hadn't done so several times already - if only to make sure Creed had things straight - but by the same token, one never knew just how much Creed had taken in properly.

Seeming to recognize that it was _his_ understanding that was being tested, Creed spoke rapidly. "Eve and I are guests at the dinner. Madame Fresia's invited me because I saved Flora last year and Eve is my date. Sven and Train are going to be waiters and will be keeping an eye on things from the sidelines. While we're mingling with the other guests we're to take pictures with these..." he touched the ruby stone that he was using to pin his cravat down and gestured at a similar stone around Eve's neck. "We get as many pictures as possible and, when we're done, get out. Until then, we stay with each other and don't wander around. And I keep the quotes to the minimum."

Eve couldn't quite blame Sven for the glazed look on his face. It was Rinslet who seemed forced to ask, "Dibd you breabth at all during tbhat?" She sneezed again and the next moment or so was spent wiping her nose.

Creed paused, thought about it. "No, I don't think I did," he said finally, with a puzzled air.

"Oxygen's good for the brain, Creed. Don't forget to breathe next time." Sven glanced at his watch. "In any case, you got the plan. Do it right, please. It's a simple enough job." He clapped his hands. "Now, let's get moving."

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Train hated the situation. He hated the monkey suit he'd been stuck in. He hated having to carry trays of drinks from one person to another. He hated the way people looked past him as if he didn't exist and he hated leaving Creed to his own devices.

_Which is just plain silly because the one thing Creed is good at is social graces._ Chronos agents all received training in proper behavior. They learned to dance, to socialize and to generally appear as if they belonged in whatever social group they happened to be with. Train hadn't enjoyed it but had learned. Creed, on the other hand, had apparently eaten it up for lunch and had asked for seconds, thirds and several helpings of dessert.

Actually, that Creed enjoyed playing parts of this sort shouldn't have been all that surprising. It gave him a set of rules to follow, a very specific guideline for his behavior that meant his little insanities could be hidden away. That was, Train thought, why Creed used to behave so inappropriately in battle situations. He followed the rules of formal and polite social relations so rigidly, even when someone was trying to kill him, that people couldn't help but be weirded out.

Watching Creed, Train frowned, wondering if it was really necessary that he and Eve form such a perfectly matched set. Eve did look lovely this evening, her long hair swirling around behind her as Creed swung her expertly around the dance floor. They were quite a pair. Pale haired, dark clad, resembling nothing so much as a pair of music box dolls. _As if they belonged together._ Train didn't like that thought, though and quickly shoved it away to focus on the job.

This one was easy, actually. Aside from the discomfort of their outfits, all the team had to do was get as many good pictures as they could of everyone at the party. Rumor had it that an important leader of the Rosenkaveliers was due to meet someone here. Rinslet, hired by her country's government to take the photos, had caught a nasty cold between accepting the assignment and now. It left her with no choice but to ask for last minute help.

It was, Train thought, the sort of job Creed could do easily. No fighting. No need to deal with people on any level except a superficial social one. He might amuse or confuse the other guests but he wouldn't be given a reason to do anything destructive. He needed as many simple jobs as possible, just to help him learn how to Sweep effectively and not allow his old problems to resurface. Yes, definitely an easy job.

Train changed his mind quickly as the door to the ballroom opened and the footman announced, "Lady Sephiria Axe and party."

_**.oOo. **_

Eve was looking up at him worriedly and he smiled down at her as reassuringly as he possibly could. The four men and women entering the room were, mostly, familiar. Sephiria, Naizer, Janos and a fourth woman who leaned on a pair of elbow crutches. Creed blinked, startled, because those crutches were made of a very familiar metal. Orihalicon.

_That must be the new number Eleven,_ Creed realized, and realized too why Naizer was escorting her and Janos was with Sephiria. Naizer, as senior member, ought properly to have been with Sephiria, of course, but Janos had managed to offend Anastasia fifteen different ways within the first hour of their acquaintance.

Eyeing the woman, Creed wondered if she truly was crippled or if the crutches were part of a disguise. _No. I remember her. She taught one of my training classes._ He couldn't quite remember which - it had been far too long ago - but the petite red-head had used crutches then as well. She could stand, but she could not walk. Another vague memory, that Anastasia had been one of the Third Elder's choices for training, like both Balder and Krantz, came to him. Try though he might, Creed couldn't think why that mattered. _Or anything else about her._ That disturbed him, because most of the blank spots in his memory were things he didn't _want_ to think about.

"I thought Number Eleven would use a weapon like..." Eve's voice faltered as it occurred to her that it might not be politic to mention exactly how Beluga had died. Creed's little smile at her, though, gave her enough confidence to continue, "Train once said that a Number was chosen partly by how well they could wield the weapon made for them."

Creed nodded, that was true enough. He wasn't sure how many different hands had carried the weapons of Chronos' enforcers but usually each were experts in the weapon belonging to the one they succeeded. However, "Sometimes, though, they can't find a suitable successor who wields the right sort of weapon, so they have to make something new. The old weapon is stored away, or the metal reused, in that case." He turned her gently, following the strains of the waltz. "It looks like her crutches may have a secret, though I'm not sure what."

Another questioning look was quickly followed by, "But usually they train someone to succeed someone else? Just in case? Does that mean you were slated to replace Sephiria?"

Creed nearly choked and saw Train looking rather strained from his position at the edge of the dance floor. Apparently his Cat had read Eve's lips. Somehow he managed to say, "I doubt it. Train's predecessor was a swordswoman. When he left I would have been given her weapon." Had things been different he would have been honored, because that same woman had been his sword master. Unfortunately for Chronos, Creed taking Number Thirteen's spot would have meant having to kill Train and that he could not accept.

A voice in his ear kept Creed from descending into unhappy memories. "Sephiria wants to know what you're doing here." It was Naizer, dancing with Anastasia, holding the woman up so that her weak legs didn't have to work so hard.

"Dancing, Naizer," Creed answered and smiled cheerfully at the bigger man. Naizer had that expression on his face and Creed realized that he had - yet again - offended. "Am I forgetting a step?"

Before Naizer could speak, or growl or - as he apparently longed to - smack Creed upside his head, Anastasia said, "You're out of practice. Trade with me and I'll remind you how." Her voice was soft, mild and surprisingly kind considering how a Chronos Number ought to feel about him. Hazel eyes met his and she smiled. "Don't worry, dear. I don't bite. Unless I'm asked to."

**_.oOo._**

Sven fought back a surge of panic at the sight of Creed taking Naizer's companion in his arms and leaving Eve to the big Chronos number. Had Naizer showed any signs, even one teeny little sign, of trying to take advantage of the girl Sven would have found a way onto the dance floor. _Never mind I'm supposed to be a waiter. He'd better mind his manners with her._

Once again, Sven found himself surprised at how mature Eve looked. Not even Naizer's admittedly bigger frame made her appear truly young. Oh, he was clearly too old for her, but the difference wasn't as great as Sven thought it ought to be. She didn't look like the child Sven's mind kept wanting to think of her as.

"They shouldn't be dancing," Train muttered and Sven nodded agreement. "The age difference alone is just wrong."

"They can't do anything here, though," Sven noted, trying to reassure himself. Besides, Naizer _was_ behaving himself. Even as protective of the girl as Sven felt, he could see that Naizer was being very careful to keep a chaste distance.

"Except talk," Train grumbled, passing by and handing someone a glass of champagne. "I don't like it, either."

Not for the first time Sven wished that one of his skills included lip-reading. What _was_ Naizer saying to Eve? Was he making inappropriate suggestions? He watched Eve and frowned, trying to see if her expression showed any signs of disturbance. He wasn't sure if he was less or more worried that it didn't.

"Stupid. What the hell are you thinking?" Train muttered, seemingly more to himself than to Sven. The younger Sweeper was glaring now, expression unusually annoyed. "Do you have to be such an innocent? I know you're naïve but..."

Sven was about to follow thru on his determination to deal with Naizer when he suddenly realized that Train wasn't watching the big Chronos number and Eve. He was watching Creed and the new Number Eleven.

**_.oOo._**

Train forced himself to remain on the sidelines, though the effort was agonizing. Didn't that idiot woman know she was playing with an extremely messed up little mind? Double entendre after double entendre, each leaving poor silly Creed staring blankly up at the contrails going over his head, were spilling from Anastasia's lips. Suggestive expressions and phrasings of the sort that belonged in one of Creed's romantic novels but which Train was fairly sure Creed didn't understand. It was especially frustrating because despite not understanding the 'language' Anastasia spoke, Creed was responding as if it made sense to him. He was going to get himself in trouble at this rate.

Such as, "You've forgotten all about me? After everything I did for you? I thought we had something special."

"In the Chinese sense?"

"Chinese?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's Interesting Times, isn't it?" Creed managed a bewildered smile. "I get them confused."

Anastasia tried again. "I was disappointed when you left us, Creed. I always had such... hopes... for you. You were such a fine piece of work." Her eyes lowered and raised as she studied Creed's body. "To tell the truth, you still are quite well developed."

"I'm only an apprentice Sweeper, of course," Creed answered, "but I try to keep in shape."

"And such a _fine_ shape it is, indeed," Anastasia purred. Her tone was just audible from Train's position and he very nearly made use of one of his glasses of champagne as a weapon. _Easy, Train. This isn't the place._

"Thank you," Creed sounded puzzled, obviously trying to work out where the conversation was going and equally obviously failing.

"No need. I never regretted suggesting you be sent to Kashima-san, you know. You always were best with the sword."

"She taught me quite a bit. I'm grateful to her."

Anastasia chuckled. "Oh, I have no doubt. And look at you now. You handle your chosen weapon expertly, or so I hear." Again her eyes lowered and rose to meet Creed's bewildered ones. "Someday, I hope that you'll demonstrate your skill for me."

Train nearly choked. Could Creed possibly miss the intention behind the suggestion? Apparently so, because the bewildered eyes became all the more puzzled. "Well, I suppose if Train agreed, it would be all right. But I'd want him there, just to make sure I didn't make any mistakes."

"Ooohhh. A threesome. You have no idea how much that intrigues me, Creed." Anastasia laughed softly as the song ended and Creed helped her off the dance floor to the table where her crutches were waiting. "I almost think I'd enjoy that. Perhaps he'd even demonstrate _his_ weapon for me? I hear he's as expert in his field as you are in yours."

It was inevitable that Creed wouldn't understand. He smiled happily. "Oh, yes. It's a marvelous sight. I can never get enough of it. I'm afraid I get quite distracted, watching him at work. It's bad of me, of course. I should be keeping my mind on my business, but it really is hard..." Something about Anastasia's expression made Creed pause, falter. Train could see she was about to weep from the effort to control her laughter and the humorous part of his Self was close to joining her. The other part, though, felt angry because Creed did _not_ understand and would be hurt when he realized it. "We're not talking about the same thing, are we?"

Anastasia smiled with a slightly superior air that set Train's teeth on edge immediately. "No, Creed. We're not. I'd heard you've been a bit... foolish... lately. It's nice to see the reports aren't entirely inaccurate."

Train wondered what Creed would do. He wanted to leap to his friend's defense but he knew that Creed needed to be able to handle situations like this alone. Creed's eyes met his momentarily and the man smiled - a little weak smile - before saying, "Well, it's not my fault. Someone tried to make my brains into sashimi and they didn't even cut on the bias."

The woman stared, blankly, at Creed for a moment and Train realized that Creed had finally managed to startle her out of her self-amused pose. After a moment, Anastasia patted Creed's cheek gently. "That's quite all right, dear. I enjoyed it, none the less. Now, run along. Your young lady is waiting for you."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Eve watched Creed stand at the window and stare down at the river running past the mansion, its waters dark against the thin layer of frost on its banks. They were in a deserted hallway, avoiding everyone while Creed recovered from his recent error in judgment. _If it really was an error in judgment._ "I don't understand. I'm sure she found it funny that you still worship Train, but what was so funny about what you said, aside from that?" She had a feeling this was one of those missing parts of her education.

"You know," Creed sighed. "I'm not sure. They say things like that in the movies too and I've never quite figured out what it has to do with anything. Except... they do seem to end up rolling around in bed later." He shrugged. "I must look like such a fool, Eve."

To say he didn't look foolish, and quite often, would have been a lie. Nor was it easy for Eve to find a kind way of saying so. Before she had to try, he grinned wryly at her, however and added, "It's all right. I don't mind _your_ saying so. I'd mind it from Sven, I think, and... from Train... but not you."

"You're silly, sometimes, but I don't think you do it on purpose and I'm not sure you can help it." As far as comfort went, it wasn't very well put but she thought Creed understood. "I'm sorry," she offered.

"It's not your fault," Creed answered, frowning absent-mindedly at something he saw out the window. "I just have to learn to make do with what's left."

"Why was she doing it, do you think?" Eve knew Creed might not understand the woman's methods but he had an intuitive understanding of motive that often made up for his failure to comprehend.

"She wants to know if I'm for real. I suppose if nothing else I've proved that." Creed managed a smile. "Chronos probably still wonders how real my insanity is. Despite the evidence." He shrugged. "We should go back. We still have a..." His voice faltered and both he and Eve turned as they heard a step along the hallway. That was close, because the last thing they needed to do was accidentally reveal their real reason for being at the party.

A female voice spoke. "Creed. It's good to see you again, but you'd be better off leaving." It took Eve a moment to recognize her. Ekidona. The woman stepped forward into the light. "I don't know that there's going to be trouble, but after that last incident at the lodge..."

"What do you mean?" Eve demanded, suddenly worried. Were the Hoshi No Shito going to attack the party? Sephiria was there, after all, as were three other Chronos Numbers.

The teleporter smiled wryly. "If I told you too much it would be bad for both us and you," she answered. "Trust me, though. The Rosenkaveliers are here and what with you and your friends, Sephiria and hers and certain Hoshi all present it seems to me that the likelihood of this night ending peacefully isn't very good."

That was true, but, "Why warn us?"

A quick glance at Creed elicited a wince and a pained look from the pale haired man. "Ekidona... liked me... once," he murmured. "I suppose... she still does... a little."

Eve blinked at that, confused because while she could guess what Creed meant, she didn't understand why that would be the case. Before she could ask, Ekidona said, "He was different then. I didn't know what lay underneath until later." The woman shrugged. "Never mind that. The point is that you may be in some danger here. Sheldon thinks this is a trap but..."

"_Sheldon?_" Creed's voice echoed Eve's own.

"He came back to us because you said you'd quit," Ekidona noted. "Don't worry about it, Creed. It isn't your business anymore."

**_.oOo._**

To say it didn't hurt would have been a falsehood but Ekidona's flat rejection was only right, only proper. Creed had earned it and he knew it only too well. He nodded. "Come, Eve. She's right." He started away, only to pause as a hand touched his shoulder. Ekidona hadn't moved, of course, but she didn't need to. Her voice was soft in his ear. "Be safe, Creed. Be content. I don't expect you to manage happiness, though I hope you do."

He glanced behind him, smiled at her, then hurried on, a part of his mind focused on the situation at hand, another still trying to puzzle out Anastasia's odd behavior and a third, very tiny, very whiny, little voice wondering what he would have to do to get Train to notice how nice _he_ looked tonight. _Which is a very stupid thing to worry about,_ he noted to that part of himself. After all, Train never noticed how _anyone_ looked, male or female and - even if he _did_ notice - probably wouldn't dare comment for fear of encouraging Creed.

_I don't care. He could at least have noticed the little cats in the embroidery,_ Creed's whiny self grumbled. He'd chosen them _for_ Train, after all. _Doesn't matter. He can't say I look nice. So just shut up and take it. It's your own damned fault, anyway._

The internal dialogue continued in that vein as they stepped back into the ballroom and rejoined the crowd. It took Creed a moment to find Train, who was caught up among a group of young women who'd each decided that he carried the very best champagne in the house. Train had a slightly desperate look on his face when Creed arrived. "You, waiter," Creed managed to say, though the haughty tone faltered ever so slightly because this _was_ Train he was talking to. "Madame Fresia promised me a bottle of her finest Cabernet. I trust you will be able to retrieve it for me?"

Train bowed, recognizing the code for trouble. "Of course, sir," he murmured. "If sir will only wait but a few minutes, I will gladly do so." He quickly finished serving the women, made his excuses and left the ballroom. The quick gesture he gave Sven caused the older man to follow and Creed and Eve waited as long as they could before joining their partners.

"So, what's up?"

"Ekidona's here," Creed told Sven. "She says other Hoshi are as well." As Sven's eye widened and his brow went up, Creed continued, "She also says there are Rosenkaveliers here and that there's likely to be trouble."

"Sheldon has rejoined the Hoshi," Eve added. "I don't know that it matters but he apparently thinks this is a trap"

Train considered that. "Had a feeling he might go back. As for it being a trap, he could be right. Well, we knew there's supposed to be at least one member of the Rosenkaveliers here. No great surprise that he or she brought back up. Sven? Should we make our excuses and get the hell out of here?"

"We can't just run off, can we?" Eve asked. "The Rosenkaveliers might not kill everyone, but..."

When Creed nodded his agreement both Sven and Train looked at each other with odd expressions. "We should have expected that response," Sven muttered, puzzling Creed mightily. Fortunately, the older man realized it and added, "We've been teaching you two to worry about collateral damage. You, especially, Creed. We can't expect you to forget what we've taught just because it's inconvenient."

With a shrug, Creed eyed Train, wondering what his Cat was thinking. Did Train want to leave? Would it be okay if they did? Gold eyes were looking thoughtfully off at nothing. Then, "All right. I agree. Creed, Eve, did you get all the photos you were supposed to?"

They both nodded and Eve noted that her camera was almost full. "Mine too," Creed agreed.

"Then keep in mind that that's part of our mission. Whatever else we do, you two _must_ get those to Rinslet." Train took a deep breath. "Sven, you get in touch with Madame Fresia's security. Tell them that there may be trouble coming. Creed, Eve, the two of you go back to the party. Act like everything is normal. I'll do the same and keep an eye out. If there's trouble, I'll signal you."

Creed nodded and Sven added, "Creed, you know the rules of engagement, right? And don't give me that look. You know as well as I do how easily you forget."

Sighing for both his own confused brain and for the need for all these reminders, Creed answered, "No going off on my own. Either you or Train has to be with me if I fight. No nano-machines if I can help it. Avoid level 2 Imagine Blade and definitely no level 3."

"Good boy," Train told him and the tone in his Cat's voice would have had him wagging his tail if he had one. "Let's go."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

It surprised Sheldon that Sephiria seemed so very young. She couldn't have been very old when she'd ascended to her position as Number One in Chronos. He bowed over her hand, though, and carefully kept that thought to himself. "Miss Sephiria," he murmured. "It was good of you to meet with me." He glanced over the woman's shoulder at her companions. Two men, both of whom he'd met before and the third a small - apparently frail - red-head who was watching him with interest.

Behind him, Ekidona and Shiki were prepared for any eventuality. The room was private and fairly small, with one exit other than the window, but, Sephiria had to know that they had a simple escape hatch, should the Chronos Numbers be foolish enough to attack. She may even have considered ways to deal with Ekidona's ability. _Still. I think she's curious enough to accept this momentary truce as it stands._

"You requested this audience. Explain yourself."

He smiled, amused at both the directness and the deliberate rudeness. So that was the way she was choosing to play it. He was the subordinate, the would-be rebel seeking parley and possible clemency for his rebellion. It was only to be expected, a part of what Chronos stood for, after all. _And why I loathe them with all my heart._ He nodded slightly, "As you know, the Hoshi have been in some disarray for the last year or so."

"I couldn't help but notice," Sephiria admitted.

"Our plans at that time were Creed Diskence's plans. Moreover, if they were to succeed, Creed was not only an important part of that plan, but absolutely required." Sheldon hadn't learned all this until later, when he'd had a chance to discuss matters with Doctor. Nor was he entirely sure how well the plan would have worked, had Creed been allowed to follow thru. By that time the man's mind had been badly twisted by the confused desires that had always driven him. _Maybe, if he could have stayed entirely on track, he could have done it. But not as long as any part of him was bound to Train Heartnet._ "Creed is no longer with us and is content to be where he is. As long as this remains the case, the Hoshi No Shito are content that he remain with Train Heartnet."

Sephiria nodded. "That I at least guessed at." She eyed Sheldon. "And now? What does the Hoshi desire of Chronos?"

With a smile, Sheldon shrugged. "We _desire_ Chronos' complete destruction."

**_.oOo._**

The blonde man's words nearly sent Naizer rushing at him but Sephiria stopped him. There was no sign of betrayal around them, no apparent effort to stab her in the back. Not that it would have worked, but it meant that whatever Sheldon might intend, it wasn't an outright attack. Not yet. "Continue."

"We recognize, however, that it is probably not possible to destroy Chronos entirely," Sheldon took off his dark glasses, revealing pale blue eyes that watched her with an intent and considering gaze. Oddly, that gaze reminded her of someone else. _Creed. When he's actually making sense. What the hell?_ "The Hoshi No Shito remain committed to the concept that Chronos should not, indeed, has no right to, rule the world in its entirety - or even the third it currently rules. However, we have also decided - after much debate - that to use Chronos' methods is to become _like_ Chronos. Therefore, we shall be achieving our goals in a different manner than Creed would have. Or, for that matter, the Rosenkaveliers."

Sephiria couldn't help but stare at Sheldon, her disbelief no doubt clear in her features. _Our methods? How dare he question..._ Except didn't she question their methods sometimes? She forced back her anger at this man, judging her and hers lacking without knowing what it was to rule or command. Who was he to judge? For that matter, who was he at all? It surprised her to realize just how little they knew of Sheldon Flamberge.

"I should note that I have expressed our intentions to the Rosenkavelier's leadership as well. They recently attempted to abduct me, hoping to use me to control the Hoshi. From where we sit, they are no better than Chronos and we will not cooperate with them any more than we will cooperate with Chronos." Sheldon was stepping slowly back, closer to his two companions and Sephiria realized that he was preparing to leave.

"Rosenkavelier... here?" Sephiria asked, frowning deeply.

"Mmm. I'll give Chronos this much. You don't hide in the shadows nearly as much as they do, but that's only because you currently hold the upper hand. I couldn't tell you what the woman I spoke to looks like. Nor would I if I could, because it's your job to deal with your enemies." Sheldon shrugged. "In any event, I've told you what I've come to tell you, Number One. Prepare for it as you will, but the Hoshi _are_ returning."

She couldn't help asking, as Sheldon stepped thru the portal Ekidona had created for them, "Wait. One question. What _was_ Creed planning?" It wasn't the question she ought to have asked but that had been one thing she had never fully understood. His actions had been so very random, so very foolish in their extreme visibility.

The blonde man paused, eyed her. Smiled. "They say that if you build a better mousetrap, the world will beat a path to your door. He was both bait... and the trap itself." Then he stepped thru and was gone.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Sephiria's return to the ballroom was quiet and unobserved by most of the room, but Train couldn't help but notice it. Partly because he was watching for _any_ change in the room's climate, partly because while he didn't regard himself as one of her people anymore, he still owed a debt of gratitude to the Chronos leader for allowing him his freedom.

Her expression worried him. Troubled, deeply troubled, especially when she glanced at Creed. _Please don't be having second thoughts about him, Sephiria,_ Train thought worriedly. That would be a bad thing, because he really didn't want his little family to come into the conflict every sense warned him was coming. He carried a tray of drinks to her side. Whispered, "Everything good, boss lady?"

"Not really," she sighed. "As if I don't have enough problems, Sheldon just gave me a declaration of war."

That surprised Train. "Sheldon?"

"I get the impression he's taken over the Hoshi," Sephiria gave him a wry, look. "I almost wish it were still Creed. Him, I could predict. It was easy to figure out where he was and what he was doing." A thoughtful look crossed her face then. "Too easy."

Train wasn't sure what that meant but he didn't really care. Creed was under his care now and there was no longer any reason to worry over his part in the Hoshi. He said as much, "I didn't hear any fighting, though, so it must have been a pretty amicable declaration."

Janos grinned. "It was just bug boy and Ekidona with him. I don't think he wanted to get down and dirty with us. Yet."

No surprise that Janos was taking all of this lightly. Hell, Train would have too. The Hoshi would do what they would do and Chronos would respond to it as need be. The same went for the Rosenkaveliers, for that matter and Train was about to say as much when the doors to the ballroom burst open and five men in red and black stepped thru. _Speak of the devil..._

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Sven and Madam Fresia's chief of security were just finishing their talk in the observation room when the televisions showed the Rosenkaveliers' attack on the ballroom. Five at the door, five more just coming in the window and five more appearing from out of the middle of the dancing. Mass hysteria, naturally, ensuing.

More Rosenkaveliers were appearing out of the woodwork it seemed. The halls were filled with them, though they had their hands full dealing with Madame Fresia's guards, and the Chronos agents who were also appearing. "You have a good team," Sven commented, even as he checked his weaponry and prepared to head for the ballroom. His team needed him.

"They have to contend with Flora," the chief answered wryly and Sven grinned as they ran down the back hallway. "Anyone with nervous dispositions would, by now, have quit for something safer. Like Detroit."

They stopped at the partially concealed doorway that led into the ballroom and Sven listened to one of the Rosenkaveliers yelling, "We seek only two of you. Train Heartnet and Sephiria Axe. If the two of you give yourselves up, we will leave, and quietly."

_Train? They want Train?_ For a moment Sven couldn't understand, then he realized. Whomever controlled Train would control Creed. _And Creed has amply demonstrated that he's still capable of being a threat - even if he's not willing to be._ Sven was about to slide thru the doorway, hopefully not straight into a fight, when other sounds followed. He couldn't tell what they were, a humming noise that rose and fell like the song of a beehive.

Now there were yells, startled cries and Sven was left with no choice but to slam the door open, roll thru it and come up in the middle of chaos. _Bugs? What in the..._ There were hundreds of them, swarming the Rosenkaveliers, flying in their faces and forcing the men and women back from the party goers.

As if that weren't enough, one by one the Rosenkaveliers were disappearing. It was like watching a scene from a Warner Brother's cartoon. A startled shout that Sven recognized as Naizer's voice caused him to look that way, just in time to see the Chronos Number disappear as well. Sephiria was just turning when another circle appeared beneath her, dropping her out of sight. Then Anastasia was gone. Janos, whose glove had shot out a series of fine threads that wrapped themselves around the nearest chandelier, was momentarily spared, only to be snatched up, along with the chandelier, a moment later. His curse, as he disappeared, echoed loudly before being cut off.

A voice spoke then as a tall blonde man stepped out of a larger circle. "Ladies and gentlemen," Sheldon said calmly, voice pitched to rise above the panic. "Unless you wish to be involved in a bloody gang war I would strongly suggest you depart. However, as our teleporter is not powerful enough to remove so many people at once, you will need to do so under your own power. Madame Fresia's security, as well as others in your group will, I have no doubt, protect you as you leave. In the meantime, we of the Hoshi will do our best to ensure that both Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers keep their quarrel amongst themselves."

**_.oOo._**

Train stared at the dark-clad man standing at the center of the room, smiling genially at the crowd. His words sent the other guests running for the doors, closely followed by Madame Fresia's security. _What in the... Since when did the Hoshi..._

"Oh, I see what they're doing," Creed said admiringly from his position behind Train. "Set your enemies against each other. That's a good idea. If the Rosenkaveliers had been around when I'd been leading, I might have tried that too."

Sheldon was already disappearing into Ekidona's warp but he found time to give Creed a peace sign before stepping thru. Train shook his head. Setting enemy against enemy was all very well, but it didn't require the Hoshi to do something about potential collateral damage. That, he thought, was a concept that would have entirely escaped Creed.

"Never mind that," Sven said, joining them. "We should be leaving too. Wherever Ekidona sent them, the Rosenkaveliers want you, Train. We can't afford to let them."

Train nodded, pulling out Hades and setting off at a run for the doorway. Creed was beside him quickly, his hand clenched around apparent nothingness. At Train's glance, Creed smiled childishly at him, "It's in sakaba mode, Train. Don't worry. I won't cut anyone."

"What do we do?" Eve asked. "Was Sheldon telling the truth? Did he really just have Ekidona move Sephiria and the others?"

Sven was catching up and getting ahead of them. "I don't know," he answered, dodging a stray Rosenkavelier and striking the woman in the belly to knock the breath from her. "First thing is to get as many bystanders out of the way. Sephiria and the others can take care of themselves."

From Eve's expression it was clear she wasn't sure about that. Creed added, "She wouldn't be Chronos' leader if they could take her out that easily. I barely stood a chance." It sounded like hubris but Train knew Creed well enough to realize that _he_ at least believed he could have succeeded where others failed. _And stubborn as he is... he might have. _

Either way, the truth was that they weren't ready to interfere with a fight between Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers. Besides, they had their own problems because apparently Sephiria hadn't come entirely alone. They kept running into small knots of battle between Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers, forcing them to either fight or to run in directions other than intended. Every so often a Hoshi would appear to prevent those fights from spilling over onto Madame Fresia's guests, but mostly the groups were too busy with each other to notice the people running past them.

In the end, though, Train and Creed were forced to split off from Eve and Sven. It wasn't a complete panic, but it _was_ inconvenient. "Creed, you doing okay?" The evening was turning out a lot more strenuous than it had been and Creed could only take so much before he started losing focus.

"Got to make the morning last,' Creed answered brightly and happily as he jumped over one Chronos agent, patting the man on the head as he passed by. "Feeling groovy."

Train forced himself not to laugh. He didn't need to recognize the quote to get the meaning. "Well, that answers _that_ question. Stay with me, don't do anything except defend yourself. Got it?"

"Get it, got it, good." Creed's grin at him was confident and Train couldn't help but grin back as he came up from a roll fall that carried him past a Rosenkavelier attempting to brain him with a club.

They kept running and somehow found themselves up on the roof. "I think it was that left at Albuquerque," Creed commented as they halted at the edge. "Watch that first step."

"Yeah, it's a doozy," Train agreed, gazing down into the riverside garden. So that was where the Hoshi had dumped Sephiria and the others. A group of Rosenkaveliers were still struggling to get at the Chronos Numbers, but a good twenty or so would never rise again. Chronos was nothing if not efficient.

This was, however, a chance to get a view of Anastasia's weapon and Train paused to watch as the woman raised her extended crutches and fired off a series of small rockets of some sort. They struck the middle of a group of Rosenkaveliers and destroyed a good half block of landscape in the process.

"Farm film review would like her," Creed commented, wide eyed. "Wow." Train was about to agree when a sound behind him, just barely audible beneath the explosions down below, caused him to spin around just in time to dodge a net being thrown at him.

Unfortunately, that dodge forced him into a side step that took him perilously close to the edge of the roof. Ordinarily, this might not have been a big deal, but at that same moment one of Anastasia's rockets struck the building somewhere below them. Before he could step back, Train found himself falling.

**_.oOo._**

Creed didn't waste time screaming or even calling Train's name, a bit of self-control over which he would later be inordinately proud. Instead he simply dove after his beloved, planning he knew not what. Fortunately, whether it was some underlying instinct at self-preservation, his nano-machines showing far more sense than he was capable of or just sheer luck, his body reacted automatically.

Pain accompanied the change as the nano-machines rushed to build what was needed. A sharp pressure at his back followed, then the sound of ripping fabric as wings, clinging to his back by some claw like mechanism, burst forth. It felt like claws were digging into his flesh around his chest and he realized that the nano-machines, not having enough hold on his body from his back, were simply wrapping themselves around his torso before forming the wings. Blood dripped from the wounds where his nano-machines had burst forth from inside his body to form the base for the wings.

He was still falling, though slower now, and just barely snatched Train up before his beloved Cat got too far away. Somehow he glided upwards, catching a breeze that carried the two of them up high over the trees.

"Creed! You're flying!"

"I'm not flying," Creed gasped, "I'm falling, with style!" He couldn't hold this for long. Couldn't make the wings do what he needed them to. The best they could manage was a short glide. He struggled with them, forced them to flap, but the effort was agony. _How does Eve _do _it?_ he asked himself anguishedly.

Train grinned over his shoulder and Creed felt a surge of strength just from the warmth of his beloved Cat's regard. Despite that distraction, however, he couldn't help but notice that Sven and Eve were below them, eyes wide as they stared up. He'd have waved, but he needed both hands for Train.

"Oy! Sven! Look out!" Train's call drew Creed's attention sideways and he saw that a couple of Rosenkaveliers, as well as some Chronos mooks were all trying to sneak up on the two on the ground. "Creed, try and get over a bit so I can get a good shot."

"I... don't... think... I can do... it..."

"Don't fuss, Creed. Just try."

For anyone else, Creed might have refused, might have acknowledged his limitations, but for Train? It was impossible for him to do anything else but struggle to flap his wings, struggle to get up a bit higher so he could glide again. Train's weight made it nearly impossible, but for a moment he thought he'd do it. For one triumphant moment he was able to hover above their partners. Then, a sharp, blinding flash - too fast to be painful - and finally a rapid fall.

He had just enough presence of mind to aim for the river.

**_.oOo._**

_Water. I hate water. I hate getting wet._ This water was worse because it was cold. Not, fortunately, frozen over. The weather wasn't cold enough for that. Train clutched tightly at his partner, pulled Creed's head up out of the water and made for the bank. Feathers, slowly disintegrating into nothingness, were floating around them, silver pale against the dark water.

Once on dry land, Train determined that the shock of the cold water had saved Creed from taking in too much water. He was coughing, weakly, and starting to stir as Train tested his pulse.

Suddenly, black eyes shot open and Creed stared at him resentfully. "I _said_ I couldn't do it," he told Train sulkily. "You might have believed me."

Feeling a sharp surge of protectiveness, Train smiled ruefully. "Yes, you did and I should have trusted you on that. I'm sorry. I assumed that you could do it because Eve could."

"Eve's special," Creed pointed out and it amused Train to realize that the dunking had gotten Creed's attention again. He sounded very much in focus. "She's _all_ nano-machines. You'll have to wait a few years for mine to be that good."

"Yes," Train agreed. "And more than that, I hope."

Creed was still inclined to be resentful, a fact that Train was almost appreciating. The old Creed would have found someone else to blame when Train hurt him. "I wouldn't have had to do it at all if you'd been more careful. You made me ruin my suit."

Now Train had to laugh. "I'm sorry," he apologized, sincerely, despite his amusement. It was so typical that Creed would resent the damage to his clothing more than to himself. "And you went to so much trouble to choose it," he added.

The dark eyes blinked and a small grateful smile crossed Creed's face. "We should find Sven and Eve," he answered, instead of responding the way Train knew he wanted to. He held out a hand for Train to help him up.

Grasping Creed's hand, Train pulled him upright. "They shouldn't be too far... Hey, you okay?" Creed's face had gone white and he'd swayed, body going limp and falling backwards. Train barely caught him before he struck the frost hardened bank.

"oooooooo. Headrush." Creed started to put his head on Train's shoulder, only to pull away slightly and let Train lower him the rest of the way down. This wasn't a good time for a noogie, but Train recognized the desire and grinned weakly at his friend as Creed continued, "My nano-machines are on strike. I think they're _really_ mad at me."

Train was about to chuckle when a movement behind him made him spin, hand going for Hades. "Oh. Good, you guys got away." Sven and Eve were hurrying down the bank, Eve quickly taking Creed's other side and examining him.

"That was quite a fall. You two okay?" Sven kept one eye behind them, watching out for trouble. More trouble.

"Cold. Wet. Not at all happy about it." Train shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Eve looked up at them. "Creed needs to rest. He's exhausted his nano-machines. They've put him into a partial paralysis."

"They're very, very mad at me," Creed agreed wistfully. "Sorry about this." Train grinned at him and shook his head. It wasn't Creed's fault anyway. For once, it really was his mistake. He was about to say as much when Creed added, "Never mind me. You should get dry. You'll catch a cold in this weather."

_Yeah, right._ Train shook his head. "You don't catch colds from getting wet and cold, Creed. You catch them from being around sick people." He paused. "So if I get one, it'll be Rinslet's fault."

Creed looked doubtful. "Even so, you really should have something hot to drink and some warm clothes and..." he sounded so much like a nagging mother that Train couldn't help but noogie him.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

_February 28th, 2005 _

"Leave it to you to turn a simple job into a complete skirmish," Rinslet grumbled. She was obviously feeling better, though. Still coughing a bit, but not nearly as stuffy sounding or miserable looking. She was even dressed in her more usual style, a tight dress that reminded Eve that while she had done some filling out in that department there was still more possible.

_Not that I particularly want it,_ she noted to herself. Dressing up had been enjoyable but it was the sort of thing she could take or leave, she felt. Admittedly, she'd enjoyed the attention but it made Sven so very uncomfortable. She didn't know why, but neither did she want him to feel that way. _I wish I knew what I _did _want,_ she admitted to herself.

Train was shrugging off Rinslet's scolding as she sat at the kitchen table going thru the pictures they'd taken and which Sven had developed for her. "Not like it was our fault," he noted. "Chronos, the Hoshi and the Rosenkaveliers would all have shown up and they still would have fought."

"What is Sheldon trying to do?" Eve couldn't help asking. The whole thing had puzzled her, even as it had infuriated Sephiria. She and her team had survived the fight, though word was that it had been more a draw than a true victory. The Rosenkaveliers had some fighters who were a match for Chronos' numbers. Sephiria had been very unhappy, not only because she'd been caught in an unplanned battle but because Sheldon - by his delicate portrayal of both Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers as mere gangs at war - had somehow managed to take the high ground in public opinion. Or, at least, in the opinion of the very rich, very powerful men and women who had attended Madame Fresia's party.

Before anyone could say anything, it suddenly hit Eve just what Sheldon was up to. "It's propaganda," she whispered. "He's trying to make the Hoshi look good at Chronos and the Rosenkavelier's expense."

Sven and Train looked at each other and from their expressions, it appeared they'd already thought of that but hadn't been sure. Creed answered, "He took a Masters in social science in Harvard. You may be right." He thought about it. "He used to suggest we publicize Chronos' methods more, get public opinion on our side. Perhaps he's convinced the others to try that after all."

Eve was not at all sure what she thought of that. Sheldon was manipulating people towards his own ends. If those ends were no better than they had been when Creed had led the Hoshi, things could get very bad indeed. It was Train, however, who interrupted her worries, "Eve. It's not our business right now. If it ever becomes our business, we'll handle it. Until then, don't borrow trouble. All right?"

She sighed. "All right."

With a grin, Train returned to examining the photos they'd taken the night before. "Hey, Creed, why'd you take a photo of Sephiria and Janos?"

"We were supposed to take photos of everyone at the party except for us. I got a picture of Ekidona, too." Creed was busy making a pot of soup, still convinced that Train's recent dunking was unhealthy. "Did I do wrong?"

"Nope. Though I bet Naizer would just love it if he knew. Just the implication that he might be suspected of being a Rosenkavelier would be enough to set him off."

Eve glanced at their pale-haired partner and shrugged. "It's only fair," she noted. "I took one of Anastasia." She pointed to the shot of Number Eleven.

"Good job," Sven noted, pointing at Creed's shoulder and a few pale wisps of his hair, the only part of the man visible in the shot. "The fewer pictures of Creed as he is now out there, the better." Eve felt herself swell with pride at the compliment. That had, after all, been her intent and she knew she'd done well. Still, it was all the better coming from him.

Rinslet nodded. "They're all good... well maybe not each and every shot, but there's more than enough to satisfy my employers." She looked at Sven as she drew the photos together into a single stack. "I'll get you the rest of your payment as soon as I get mine."

"I should hope so," Sven answered. "This isn't a charitable institution."

Eve was about to comment when Train sneezed and set Creed off in a flurry of solicitous fussing. Instead, she leaned back and watched the others as they talked past Creed and Train. It may not have been the sort of job it had been intended to be and she was deeply worried about what was going to happen between the three factions, but aside from that, she was very satisfied. She'd danced. She'd done her part as a member of the team. Life, she decided, was good.

Very good indeed.

To Be Continued...


	58. What goes around

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**What goes around... **_

_March 3, 2005 _

"AAAAAACHOOOOOOO"

Creed peered through the kitchen door at his Cat, startled. "Train? Are you all right?" Train was coming down the stairs, black hair more than usually tousled. His expression was surprisingly dull as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. He raised bleary eyes to Creed and smiled wanly as his housemate approached. "What is it?"

"Noth..." Train sneezed again and winced at Creed's expression. "Oh, all right. Woke up with a sore throat." His voice was thick and strangely nasal. At Creed's obvious puzzlement, he sighed. "I dink I hab a cold. Dupid Rindlet."

"I know you do," Sven said from behind him. "Go back to bed."

Creed blinked at the two men. "A... cold? Train? He never gets sick." His protest sounded hollow even to himself. It was pretty obvious that Train was barely managing to make it down the stairs. _It's wrong. He's not supposed to..._ He hurriedly forced those thoughts back. "Sven's right. Go back to bed, Train."

"Don wanna." Train stumbled down the last few steps and shambled his way over to the couch. "Boring." Behind him, Sven rolled his eyes and shook his head - his expression sour. "An dob roll your eyes ab be, Sven."

"You behave like a little kid, you get eyes rolled at you." Sven sighed, coming the rest of the way down and walking over to where his partner had sprawled on the couch. "We had this discussion the last time you got sick."

"Gib be the remode." Train looked at Creed, apparently deciding to ignore Sven entirely. It took Creed several seconds before he worked out what his beloved wanted, though, eliciting an annoyed look. Hurriedly, he grabbed the TV remote and handed it to Train. "Goob. Now... Milk."

"Milk isn't so good when you have a cold," Sven protested, even as Creed headed for the kitchen. "Creed, get him some tea."

"MILK."

"TEA."

Creed halted mid step between the refrigerator and the stove. On one hand, he wanted to give his love exactly what was desired. On the other... Sven was probably right. _I... don't know what to do..._

.oOo.

Peering through the kitchen door at their housemate, Sven winced. "Train," he said quietly. "Stop it. I know how much you hate being sick but he can't..." Suddenly Creed started moving, pulling out the teapot and filling it. "Then again." For a moment he was surprised that Creed had chosen to obey himself over Train, but once the pot was heating on the stove Creed went to the refrigerator and poured a milk as well. _Should have known. If he couldn't choose, he'd do both._

Train muttered something under his breath and Sven looked down at his partner. This wasn't the first time Sven had seen Train sick and he couldn't be surprised at the younger man's response. Train hated it, loathed the helpless feeling and was inclined to share his discontent with the rest of the world. _This is going to be interesting._ Sven decided to let things proceed as they were, just to see how far Train would take things when he had an absolutely willing slave at his beck and call.

Going into the kitchen, Sven watched Creed carefully make up a mug of tea and put it on the same tray as the milk he'd already poured. "It won't hurt him," Sven said quietly, "The milk, I mean. Just make him a bit more uncomfortable."

Creed nodded. "I know." His voice was mild but there was a faint undertone of stress. "I've had colds before... a few years back... when I was little, too..." As Sven raised a brow, Creed managed a small smile. "It's all coming back to me now. Well, bits'n'pieces are." He shrugged. "Nothing traumatic. No more skeletons in my closet."

Relieved, Sven started the coffee maker. "Good. Don't forget, you can talk about it with us if you need to." At Creed's mildly amused look, he added, "Anything to keep you from having another psychotic episode, kid. Now go on and take that over to Train. Eve and I can get our own breakfasts this morning."

.oOo.

Train flipped listlessly through the channels, staring at the screen without really seeing what was on it. Only when a shadow fell on him did he look up, raising a brow when he realized that Creed had resolved the question of what to get him by getting both milk and tea. Somewhere under the depths of his cold he thought he should be amused, but right now all he felt was nasty and mean and quite prepared to share all that meanness with the rest of the world.

"Don't try to talk," Creed said quietly as he set the tray on the coffee table. Kneeling, he touched Train's forehead with one hand and his own with the other. Train blinked, startled at the gesture, too startled to stop his housemate. It felt strangely familiar and oddly comforting. "You'll need a blanket and some pillows if you're going to stay here. Do you want anything else?"

"Oranbge jutse. Cheebseburger."

It was Creed's turn to blink. Then he finally said, "All right. Let me get your bedding, then I'll make you some food." He was gone, then back again in very short order, a thick stack of bedding hiding his face.

_Oh for heaven's sake._ Train wasn't sure if he should laugh, but the small childish part of himself that always took over was more inclined to take advantage of the situation than to restrain his friend. "I'be drunbk my milk. And my tea."

"Do you want more of both?" Creed's dark eyes were serious as he carefully covered Train up and settled a pillow under his head. "And the orange juice, right?"

"Right." There was something he wanted more than anything but Train couldn't quite figure out what it was. From somewhere in his memory came a taste. Cinnamon and brown sugar. Sort of like one of the cakes Creed often made for him. The one he liked best of all - far better than all that silly chocolate stuff. "Cobfee cake."

Yet another blink as Creed puzzled that out. Then, at last, "All right. It'll be a bit to make it up, okay?" Train nodded. Even in the depths of selfish sullen sickness he knew he couldn't expect instant service on something like that. A sweet little smile crossed Creed's face and he nodded in return, hurrying off to the kitchen.

.oOo.

The rest of Creed's day was spent taking care of Train. To spare his love having to call for him, Creed gave Train a little bell and not much more than fifteen minutes would go by between rings. From coffee cake to milk to juice after juice, Creed found himself making continuous runs to take care of one thing after another. Not that he minded - keeping Train happy was far more important to him than anything else. If anything, he would have been deeply contented with the chores if not for the fact that he seemed unable to do even those without making Train impatient and annoyed.

As the day progressed, Creed found it difficult to concentrate, difficult to focus in on anything but what Train asked of him. He was dimly aware of Eve and Sven when they left on a job, even more dimly aware of their return.

"Wabt toog you so lonbg?"

"I'm sorry. I had to..."

Train took the juice Creed handed him and drank it down so quickly that Creed thought he'd choke. Then he handed the glass back. "More."

"We... we're out..." Creed fought down a surge of anger at himself. "I.. I'm sorry... I..." Train's expression was annoyed and he felt lost and frustrated. _What do I do? I can't please him. Nothing I do helps..._ He wanted to lash out. He wanted to scream. A very small part of him wanted to cry.

A hand on Creed's shoulder barely got his attention. "Not now, Sven."

"Go upstairs, Creed. Up on the roof. Now."

Both Creed and Train stared at Sven, who looked more than usually stern. "Now, Creed." Glancing at Train, Creed saw no agreement and he felt lost as to what to do. Only Eve's hand on his arm, pulling him gently away, resolved the issue.

.oOo.

Sven looked at his partner. "You know. You're a jerk when you're well, but you are a real bastard when you're sick." Anger was rising in Train's expression and Sven added, "How much advantage do you plan to take of this? Have you even seen the kitchen?" He shook his head, aggravated beyond the norm at Train's behavior.

Train blinked. "I bfeel libke _crabp_!" he pointed out with as much asperity as was possible for a man dripping as much from the nose as he was.

Sven had to admit to himself that his friend looked pretty crappy too. _Which is no excuse._ He said as much, adding, "Train, you know Creed. You know how strongly he feels about you. He's incapable of denying you anything you ask for, when you ask for it and no matter how often."

"Budt..."

"But nothing, Train." Sven pulled Train up out of the couch and pushed him into the kitchen. "Look!" The room that Creed considered his personal domain, the place that Creed never ever permitted to look anything less than perfect was a complete and total disaster area. "Is he your friend or is he your slave?"

Train swallowed and Sven knew he'd gotten a bit of a clue past his friend's thick skull. "Train, whether he was trained to love you or whether he loves you because he really and truly loves you doesn't matter. He can _not_ refuse anything you ask of him. Even now, with all the healing he's done, if _you_ asked him to stick his arm down his throat and rip his heart out he'd do it for you. If he survived long enough, he'd probably fry it up with a side order of onions if that's what you wanted."

"Thatbt's..." Train started to protest. Then he sighed. "I bedder go... talk to himb."

.oOo.

Train forced himself up the last rung of the ladder to Creed's room. He hurt all over, worse than after a particularly tough practice session with one of Chronos' trainers. His head ached and his throat was a solid mass of pain. All that wasn't as painful as the knowledge that he'd been a complete and utter jerk to someone who depended almost entirely on him.

_I can't even complain that he needs me too much. I'm the one who took responsibility for him and I _knew _he wasn't likely to ever get so well that he would be able to do without me._ It was upsetting, particularly because he knew he was in the wrong. Even if Creed hadn't been the way he was it would have been wrong of Train to keep demanding and demanding and whining the way he had most of the day. Under ordinary circumstances he would never have pushed Creed so hard, but being sick upset the natural order of things in his head and he had been unable to resist the urge to share his pain. _Didn't help that he let me, but naturally he would. I knew it, too. _

Which, in the end, made him no better than Creed - at least the old, bad, Creed. Train had to wonder how much more his friend could have taken before he'd be pushed to hysteria. Sven had been right to shove his nose in the facts, _even if those facts hurt almost as much as this stupid cold._

"Creed, he was just being a jerk. You know he can be that way."

"I know."

Train blinked at the two voices coming from the porch outside. That Eve felt that way was no real surprise. He knew she got annoyed with him for his behavior fairly often. It was Creed's admission that his beloved Cat wasn't perfect that startled him. Startled and more than a little hurt. Especially since he knew he deserved it.

"I know. But it doesn't matter. He's sick."

"That's not a good enough excuse," Eve said sourly. "Is it, Train? And you shouldn't eavesdrop. It's not polite."

.oOo.

Creed looked over the edge of the roof through the doorway into his room. "Train... You shouldn't be here... You'll make yourself worse." He was down quickly and hurried to his beloved's side, hand automatically going to Train's forehead. "You're too hot. Please. Sit down."

"Dobn't fuss, Creebd." Train patted Creed's shoulder, gesture softening the words, relieving the fear that he'd failed his beloved somehow. "Ebve... You're righbt. Budt... canb I abpologize privably?"

The young woman glanced from Creed to Train, then sighed. "If that's what you want. Try to make it a good one. You really hurt him, Train. He might not admit it, but you did."

Creed sighed, wanting very badly to object that that wasn't true, that it wasn't nearly as horrible as she seemed to think it was. Except, somewhere in the depths of his heart he couldn't. It _had_ hurt. Had hurt a lot and while he didn't necessarily want Train to feel bad about what he'd done, he _did_ want his love to understand just how much what he'd done had hurt. That the two points couldn't really be disentangled without causing a great deal more pain was something he refused to think about.

Eve gave Train one last hard look before heading downstairs. Once she was gone, Train sighed, collapsing into one of the two chairs Creed kept up in his room beside his desk. "Oh mabn. This just ibsn't fair. I _habte_ being sick."

It wasn't easy, but somehow Creed smiled. "I know."

"I ebspecially habte how I act." Train's yellow eyes, reddened by sickness, met Creed's. "I wabsn't being fair. I wab being a brabt."

To say the truth seemed impossible, but... "Yes. You were." Creed raised his eyes to his beloved, expecting the anger he saw, but not the pain. "I... I'm sorry."

"No." Train shook his head. "I debserve it." He started coughing and Creed automatically pulled out a handkerchief. Once Train had finished he sighed. "Ibt ibsn't your faulbt."

"It isn't yours either. I'm not what you wanted." Train stared at him, obviously startled. Creed wasn't certain if what he was trying to say was inspiration or something he'd understood by instinct. "I can't be who you want. Can't replace her."

Now Train looked wearily impatient. "Creebd. I dobn't neebd Saya."

With a smile that he hoped didn't look too scared or childish, Creed shook his head. "No. Not S.. Saya. Your mother." It was an effort not to stammer, even more of an effort not to shrink away from the expression on Train's face, or rather the lack of one. _Oh God. Have I screwed up?_

.oOo.

"That... thabt's... silly." Train couldn't help but stare blankly at his housemate. "I dobn't egzbect you to be my mobther." He felt panicked, strangely hollowed out.

"I... I'm sorry... I..."

Creed's voice, lost and childlike, hit a strange note in Train's thoughts. It _was_ silly. Utterly and completely ridiculous. Totally childish. _And true._ He took a deep breath, realizing exactly what he'd been doing all day. "Silly. Bubt... You're right." It was hard to swallow, not just because of his sore throat but because of the solid lump of pain that formed inside. _All day. I've been having a tantrum because _she _isn't here to take my temperature. She isn't here to feed me warm gelatin. She isn't here to tuck me in and sing to me._ He felt tears start and was utterly incapable of stopping them. _She isn't here to make me..._ "Thabt cake. She used to... make sombthing like it." It was the cake that had meant the most. The cake that said, 'mommy loves me'.

"I'm sorry I don't know the recipe," Creed whispered softly. "I'd make it all the time for you."

Somewhere in the very depths of Train's consciousness he could hear himself. Could hear the little boy staring at his murdered parents. Could hear the screams that he had never permitted free. _I want my mommy._ Slowly, despite all his efforts to fight them, the tears began flowing. _I'm sick. I'm tired. I'm lonely._ He felt Creed touch his shoulder, and started crying in earnest.

"Oh god... I didn't mean to... Train..." Creed's frightened voice seemed very far away. Then, tentatively, his housemate pulled him close and held onto him. Train just felt too tired, too frayed by sickness and unhappiness. A small part of himself wondered if he was doing the right thing, if this would be yet another strain on Creed's already fragile personality. This wasn't the first time he'd found himself leaning on Creed's support but he knew how frightened it made his friend.

Then Creed began to sing very softly. "_Fais do do, Gil mon petit fils, Fais do do, t'auras du lolo. Maman est en haut, elle fait des gateaux. Papa est en bas, il fait du chocolat. Fais do do, Gil mon petit fils, fais do do, t'auras du lolo._"

The song was one Train had never heard before, but it had a comforting sound to it, a sweet kindness that just plain felt right. He barely attended the words - something about mother making cake and father making chocolate - but from the names he rather thought it was something Creed's grandmother must have sung to him.

Tiredly, Train closed his eyes and rested his head against Creed's chest.

.oOo.

Sven watched Creed come down the stairs, expression tired. "How are you doing?" He was really regretting not having said something earlier. _I knew Train would be that way. Knew Creed had no defense._ The thing was, he'd felt the two men both needed to realize that on their own.

Creed curled up on the couch, eyes reddened. Apparently he'd been crying. Still, he managed a wan little smile. "It's okay. He'll be fine. He just needs to sleep. He's using my futon."

A sigh escaped Sven's lips. "Creed. I meant you."

The wan little smile gentled to tenderness. "I know. I'm fine. He apologized." He looked up at Sven, pulling the coverlets Train had been using up over himself and lying down. "I'm tired, that's all. Just need some sleep."

"Creed..."

"We talked. It's partly my fault. I let him. I knew what he really wanted and since I couldn't give it to him, I wanted to give him what I could." At Sven's puzzled frown, Creed added, "He missed so much, losing his mother. He tries... he really tries not to let it show... but when he's sick, he can't help it."

Sven blinked. He was almost as stunned at the fact that it was Creed, usually the least clueful in the house, who'd understood the reason behind Train's behavior. _But then, they're both stunted - just in different ways._ He remembered Creed's conviction that Train and he were tied together by their pasts and understood it better now. _Neither of them have grown up._ He smiled, "You want some supper? Eve is fixing something simple."

"No. I'm just... very tired... right now." Creed smiled a bit more broadly. "I'll get up and clean up in a bit. After I've rested." He settled into the pillows, pale hair tousled against the fabric. "In a little."

Sven watched his housemate as he closed his eyes and began to snore softly. It looked like one crisis was averted. He just hoped another wasn't on its way. _Somehow I don't think this is over._

To Be Continued...


	59. Comes around

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**...Comes Around**_

_March 4, 2005 _

The sound of feet pounding down the stairs echoed through the house. Sven glanced up from his paper and shook his head. "Well, someone's feeling better." As his partner jumped over the banister and landed lightly with spread arms, he chuckled. If the laugh had a faintly sour note, he felt he had reason. "Train, not so loud."

"Hey, aren't you glad to see me?"

"Shhhh." Eve stepped out of the kitchen carrying a small tray with something steaming in a mug on it. "Don't make so much noise." At Train's startled expression she walked over to the couch, setting the tray down and pointed at the man curled up in a near fetal position amid a welter of pillows and blankets.

It was with some amusement that Sven saw Train's expression go from bouncy and lighthearted to worried. "Oh no. He caught it? But... didn't his nano-machines protect him?"

"Apparently," Sven answered, "not even nano-machines can protect you from the common cold. Yours didn't, either, remember?"

Eve corrected him with asperity. "They can't prevent what's still physically human from responding to the cold virus. They were created to maintain physical health, of course, so I believe he will recover more quickly than most - just as Train did." At Train's stare, she continued, "The Lucifer nano-machines in your system are not as highly developed as those in Creed's, but they are similar enough in function that they provide you with some assistance."

_**.oOo. **_

Train considered Eve's idea for a moment, then shrugged. "I usually get well quick in any case," he pointed out. "Doesn't matter, I guess. Just glad to be well." He was, too. Being sick just never seemed fair, somehow. _Though Creed's right. It's probably 'cause I miss mom that I get so nasty about it._ It still hurt a bit to think about, but he wasn't going to spend a whole lot of time angsting over the situation.

Going over to the couch, he looked at his housemate. Creed looked as miserable as Train had felt the day before. His eyes were closed and one hand was pressed against his forehead. Every so often he would whimper a bit. "Hey," Train said softly. "How you doing?"

"I... I'll get up... soon. I need to clean the kitchen..."

Eve rolled her eyes. "He's been saying that for the last half hour, ever since he woke up." She helped Creed sit up a bit. "I've got something for the headache, Creed. Can you swallow these?"

Creed nodded, biting at his lip. "I'm sorry."

Train picked up the tea cup Eve had brought in while the girl handed Creed the tablets, then helped Creed drink some. With an effort, Creed swallowed, whimpering a little. "I'll be... okay now... I'll get up..."

With a sigh, Train stopped Creed from moving. "No. Stay there." Black eyes met his, bewildered and exhausted and he smiled. "You're sick, Creed. You're allowed to stay in bed when you're sick."

"But..."

"But me no buts, young man. Sleep. Now." It startled Train to realize that his mother had come out of his mouth and he smiled a bit at the thought. Gently, he got Creed lying back down and tucked his housemate in. "You'll be okay, Creed. Just lie back and get well, 'kay?"

Creed's eyes met Train's for a moment, scared and agonized, and Train grinned wryly. "I'd sing you that song, if it'd help, but you know I have a tin ear." A little smile quirked Creed's lips in answer. "That would make you even _more_ miserable, with your headache and all. Now drink up your tea and go back to sleep."

_**.oOo. **_

Creed half listened to his beloved's voice as he talked quietly with Sven and Eve. Most of him was just too busy aching to really care what they were saying, though he was dimly aware of the worry in Train's tone. The headache was the worst of it and he couldn't help but press his hand to his forehead and moan at a sudden sharp pang.

"Creed?" Train's hand was gentle on his shoulder. "What is it?"

He wasn't sure where the humor came from, but Creed managed to whisper, "Who snuck in and re-did my lobotomy for me? Wasn't once enough?"

There was a moment of silence and Creed wished his head didn't hurt so much so he could look at his beloved and make sure he'd not erred. Then Train chuckled softly. "They messed it up the first time, remember? Besides, your nano-machines would fix it if that were all it was."

Creed nodded, weakly. Somewhere in the depths of a memory that he'd learned to live with, if not entirely accept, was a moment of severe shattering pain. He knew that brain tissue itself wasn't supposed to be able to feel but he would have sworn he'd felt that damn pick go all the way through his sinuses and straight out the other side of his skull. Rather like he felt right now. "I really feel sick, Train," he whispered. "I don't think you want to be too close."

Train laughed very softly. "Not unless I want another lapful." It took Creed a second to remember the last time he'd thrown up in Train's lap and he regarded it as a tribute to his year or so of stability that he could remember that time with only a tiny bit of pain. He managed a wan smile as Train continued, "I'll get you a bucket. Try to keep it down, though. Give the medicine a chance to take the edge off the headache."

The faint sound of bustling followed, but Creed spent that time curling further into a ball and forcing himself to lie as still as humanly possible. Every movement hurt and he wanted very badly for the whole world to just go away. Slowly, bitterly slowly, sleep claimed him.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

_March 8, 2005 (Midnight) _

A figure moved slowly thru the darkened kitchen. Step by delicate step, making its way towards its target. Weapon in hand, it took a deep breath. Set to work. Only to be caught in the act by the light switching on.

"I thought so." Ten glared at the criminal, feeling more than a little aggravated with him. "You," he said firmly, "are supposed to be in bed."

Black eyes, reddened from several days of sickness, gazed back at him pitiably, but Xiao Li knew his charge's ways too well not to know when Creed Diskence was truly unhappy and when he was just dramatizing for effect. Frustrated, yes, desperately tired of being sick, yes. Maybe a bit angst-ridden over the time it was taking to get well. But not, Xiao Li thought, deeply unhappy.

"The kitchen is a mess," Creed said, apparently realizing that his act was having no effect. "And could you please turn out the light? It really hurts."

With a sigh, Xiao Li took the towel from Creed's hand and made him sit down. "Sven and Eve cleaned in here." Switching off the overhead light but leaving the porch light on, he went to the stove and started a pot of water boiling. "It's not that bad."

Creed made a stubborn little noise and Xiao Li sighed as the other man continued, "It's my job. And it isn't clean enough." He must have sounded childish, even to himself, for he added, "I hate this. My head won't stop hurting. I'm dizzy all the time. Why does this have to happen every time I get a cold?"

"Maybe because you won't lie down and stay down?" Xiao Li suggested sourly. It had been four days since Creed had gotten sick and though he'd obeyed Train and the others by day, when they were asleep he'd snuck into the kitchen and proceeded to redo all the work that his housemates had done to clean it. Xiao Li had been deeply annoyed with Balder - the Number assigned to watch Creed over the last week - when he'd mentioned the fact. _Could have told Train or Sven, you know._ That Sven and the others hadn't noticed was most likely because they were so used to the kitchen being spotlessly clean that the fact that it was cleaner in the morning than it had been the night before hadn't registered.

Creed managed to look embarrassed. At least he did for a moment, before a fit of coughing forced him to curl up and moan. "I've got a headache that's _this_ big," the pale-haired man whispered, hands stretching as far as they could go, and then some. His nano-machine arm had the advantage on that count.

Xiao Li poured a cup of tea, adding several spoonfuls of sugar. Paused. Added several spoonfuls more, remembering Creed's sweet tooth. "I'm sure you do. So. What do you plan on doing about it?" He set the cup in front of Creed and eyed the man doubtfully as he sat back down. Would he, Xiao Li wondered, have the sense to do what needed to be done or was someone going to have to twist his arm behind his back and make him?

_**.oOo. **_

The tea helped and Creed sipped at it gratefully, both because it made him feel a bit better and because it gave him time to consider his answer. He knew, only too well, what Xiao Li meant. It was a rare state of affairs for him when the sensible part of his personality actually worked, but this seemed to be one of those times. A little sulkily, because even though he knew it was the right thing to do he still didn't want to do it. "Go to the doctor."

Xiao Li gave him a sympathetic look. "So unwilling. Is it really that hard to admit you need help?"

"That... and..." Creed hesitated. He hated being poked and prodded. Hated the smell, the bright lights. Hated everything about doctors. "Carvel," he said finally, unwillingly. The man was long since out of his life. Was still serving his sentence and would for at least another four years, if not longer. "Doctor." He had been a willing participant in the latter's experiments but that hadn't made them, or Doctor, any easier to endure.

Xiao Li considered that and nodded slowly. "I can see why you'd be a bit leery. But most doctors aren't like Carvel _or_ your former compatriot."

Tapping his forehead and wincing a little at the pain, Creed managed a small smile. "I know that up here. It's not that part that needs to be convinced." He was, he realized, scared. Not quite to the point of panicked overreaction but his fingers were trembling and his heart racing. If he weren't also feeling sick and woozy and about ready to fall over any minute he would have been on his feet and doing something, anything, to distract himself from the fear.

"True."

Xiao Li's voice was carefully non-committal and Creed had a feeling that Number Ten was allowing him to make his own decisions. At last, with a sigh, he whispered, "I'll go to the clinic. Tomorrow. I'll have them take me."

"Why wait. I'll take you now." Train's voice at the doorway startled him into turning, a mistake, because it sent a wave of nausea thru Creed that nearly made him lose the tea he'd just drunk. For a moment he thought he had it under control, then he was rushing to the sink. Again. _I HATE THIS!_ he wailed inside his head.

_**.oOo. **_

Train put a hand on Creed's shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath tighten as Creed's body shuddered with the effort to rid itself of absolutely nothing at all. At last, though, his housemate looked up at him. "Sorry..."

"Don't be. You're allowed to throw up when you're sick." In the dim light from the outside window, Creed's face was too shadowed to read. Train didn't need to, though. His friend was frustrated, helpless and hating every minute of a sickness that must make him feel utterly useless and inadequate. Two things Creed hated most in the world. "Done? Do you want to sit back down, or stay here?"

Pale brows drew together in a frown. "Stay here," Creed said finally, unwillingly. "I don't think I'm safe to sit down yet." That he was admitting that much was a sign. Of what, Train wasn't entirely sure, but a sign. After another fit of retching, he added, "I don't want to go, but I need to. _Can_ we go now? Get it over with?"

"I'll get his coat." Xiao Li was on his feet before Train could answer. Which was just as well because Train still wasn't at all sure he liked Number Ten being there. A little part of himself was irritated that it was Xiao Li who had stopped Creed's nightly cleaning binge instead of himself. He'd been going to, of course, but the other man had shown up before he could do anything.

Forcing down that minor bit of irritation because he didn't know why he felt it or what to do with it, Train nodded. "Creed, I'll get the car. You stay here and I'll come get you in a few minutes. He squeezed Creed's shoulder, saw the quick, grateful smile in response. "You'll be all right."

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Creed fidgeted in his seat, watching the doctor read something on his computer. Tall, skinny, his red hair cut short on his balding head, he had the air of one who did not suffer fools gladly. To his credit, though, so far he'd not even blinked at Creed's oddities. The few quotes that Creed had been unable to hold back - 'The value of health', 'I don't have the leisure or convenience to be dainty'. Granted, he didn't seem to understand their meaning but that was all right because Creed wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to say.

"It's a good thing I had your records sent to me," Doctor Ramone was saying and Creed tried to keep his attention on the man. He glanced at Train, who nodded reassuringly as Ramone continued, "This is the first time I've had to treat you, of course, but there are a number of details about your background that are useful to know."

"Half the battle," Creed couldn't help answering and winced at the disgusted look on the doctor's face. "Sorry. I can't help it."

Ramone shook his head. "No, I know you can't." He tapped his screen. "But... G.I. Joe? That show was a load of..." He paused, glanced at Train, who was raising his brow at both of them and shrugged. "Well enough. Never mind that. You have acute sinusitis."

"What's that when it's at home?" Train asked and both Ramone and Creed gave him a pained look. "What?"

Ramone sighed. "I should know better than to use any remotely technical terms with you, Train." Creed might have bristled at the implied insult to his Cat's intelligence but honesty with himself reminded him that, yes, Train did tend to have a blind spot when it came to intellectual matters. "Acute means that it's a very bad case. Sinusitis, as the name ought to imply, is a sinus infection."

Train shrugged. "That was obvious. What isn't obvious is why it's causing him so much trouble. I mean, I had the cold first and I didn't end up like this. Miserable for a day and I'm fine now."

"Some guys have all the luck," Creed retorted, then moaned at the sharp pang that resulted. "Oh. Gonna be sick." He took the wastebasket Ramone gave him and retched dryly into it. Sick, yes, but pretty well emptied of anything to be sick with. "Hate this. Hate. Hate. HATE THIS."

_**.oOo. **_

Train put a hand on Creed's shoulder. Wiped his housemate's face with a paper towel when Creed looked up, face damp and pale from exhaustion and the expression on his face hit Train straight in the pit of his stomach. He'd never felt quite this way about it before and it startled him. Unsure how to deal with the feeling, he did what he usually did with things he didn't understand and ignored it. "I know you do," he murmured. "Okay, doc. So he's got this acute sineytus thingymabob. What do we do?"

Ramone looked pained, as always, at Train's messing up the pronunciation of his beloved medical terminology but didn't comment. Reaching into the a drawer beside his desk, he pulled out a number of pamphlets. "Here are some home remedies you can use to alleviate the symptoms," he answered and it seemed to Train he was deliberately using every big word he could think of. "Generally, for sinusitis, the best treatment is antibiotics for the infection, plenty of fluids and _bed rest_." He stressed the last words and Creed hunched over, looking mildly embarrassed.

Ignoring the reaction, Ramone continued, "If this were a chronic problem, ie. if you got these infections more than once or twice a year, I'd advise you to try some more extensive remedies."

For a moment Train thought Creed was going to make the mistake of shaking his head but his housemate stopped himself in time to prevent another bout of retching. "No. It only happens when I have a cold. Every time I have a cold. But I don't get them often, really."

The admission was a hard one to make, but Train did so anyway, "This one's my fault. I got us soaked in the river the other day... and stressed him out taking care of me when _I_ got my cold."

"It wasn't your fault. You were really sick," Creed protested and Train only wished that he _could_ blame his sickness for his stupidity. It was good of Creed to forgive him, but then Creed always forgave him. _And that's something I have to stop depending on. No matter how true it is, no matter how long he does, _I _shouldn't do it. It just hurts him more._

Ramone coughed slightly to get their attention. "Since it isn't chronic, we don't need to consider more extensive treatment. The pamphlets describe some of those but..." he hesitated, eyed Creed cautiously. "Don't worry about surgery. That's only for cases where the sufferer is constantly infected. And, too, while the scar tissue from that... er... operation you had as a child is probably why you get sinusitis every time you get a cold it's unlikely that an operation would resolve the problem."

Black eyes widened momentarily and Train felt Creed stiffen when at the word surgery. He relaxed quickly, though, once Ramone had finished. "It's all right," he said quietly. "You can call it what it was. I don't mind."

"I'd rather not even think of it, frankly," Ramone admitted. "In any event, I'll give you some medicine. I want you to go home. Get in bed and do _not_ do anything strenuous like Sweeping or house-cleaning or whatever until the infection is gone. Understand me?"

Train grinned with relief. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he does what he's supposed to. If I have to sit on him to get him there."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

_March 15, 2005 _

Train sat on a chair in the living room, resting his chin on the back as he watched his housemate sleep. Creed's breathing was a lot better now and he was beginning to toss and turn in his sleep again, something he hadn't done since he'd gotten the cold. It was, he thought, somewhat amusing the way the two of them seemed to echo and reflect each other. Where he'd whined like a lost child all through the throes of his cold, Creed simply curled up into isolated silence, an occasional whimper escaping him when the pain got too bad.

Watching his friend, Train thought that his stoicism wasn't just a matter of machismo, though that was a large part of it. Even now, as close to healed as Train suspected his housemate _could_ be, Creed's pride didn't want to let go of some things, the tiny bit of self-respect he still had, the ability to command himself in some way. _That and I'm not sure he's used to having someone there to take care of him._

If Train still whined for a long dead mother it was because he knew that having that love and attention was something special and comforting. For that matter, he knew it existed at all. Creed was simply used to being ignored, used to taking care of his pain for himself because there'd been no one else there to care about him after his grandmother had died.

_Doesn't make him want it any less, though, poor guy._ Train couldn't help but feel a sharp sense of rage at the ones who'd shaped Creed's life. The poor slob simply hadn't had a hope in hell in making it out of all that without someone to help him. He'd been screaming for someone to save him for years. Screaming for someone to protect him, to shield him, both from what was being done to him and what he was doing to himself.

Eyeing the pale haired figure, Train could see the way his eyelids flickered and hear the soft whimpers that were part of his regular sleep habits. He reached out automatically to stop Creed from falling off the couch and was surprised at how quickly the man settled. Even asleep, he knew Train was there. Sighing, Train took his hand away before Creed could waken, only to be forced to put it back when Creed moaned, twisting on the couch and very nearly landing in Train's lap.

_What am I going to do with you?_ Train wondered. Creed obviously needed comfort but Train feared that the best kind of comfort would prove disastrous to Creed's state of mind. _I can't love you, Creed. That's more than anyone could expect. But I'm here for you. I wish there was some way of telling you that without giving you another vain hope._

It wasn't, Train realized, simply that he didn't want Creed thinking he loved him. Somehow that didn't bother Train as much as it had once. _No. Tell the truth. It doesn't bother me at all that he wants me to love him. Not anymore. _But if Creed got the idea that Train was starting to feel the same way towards him, he would certainly be hurt when he realized it wasn't true, that - once again - his deepest longings were simply the product of a desperate imagination.

A thought occurred to Train, several scattered memories coming together. Creed's response to the choker Train had given him. The careful way Creed always took care of Train's clothes, particularly the long black coat that Train hadn't worn since that nearly fatal day when the two of them had come so close to killing each other. Train had never commented or chided his friend about it, had pretended not to notice how often that coat was carefully removed from the closet, how carefully it was examined for wrinkles or any other damage, even though it was never used.

Gazing at his friend, Train knew what he had to do.

_**.oOo. **_

"Is that a good idea?" Sven eyed his partner curiously as the younger man took his old coat, the one he'd worn as the Black Cat, out of the closet and carried it over to where their housemate slept, body twisting around and half off the couch already.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Train shrugged, looking about the most stubborn Sven had ever seen him. "There's not a lot I can give him, Sven. I don't dare comfort him the way he did me."

Sven frowned, wondering what exactly Creed had said to Train to create such a strong reaction in his partner. A brief, wild, thought crossed his mind, only to be thrown out immediately. Train liked Creed, cared about him, but he didn't _love_ Creed. "How is that supposed to help?"

The answer took a while in coming. "It's hard to explain. Creed thinks of me as his master." Train made a face at the description, then shrugged ruefully. "Or, at the very least, as a kind of older brother."

That had always been obvious and Sven said as much. "Doesn't explain how that's supposed to do any good."

"Remember his reaction to his collar?" Train gestured at the collar that he had once worn, then given to Creed for their first celebration of his birthday. Aside from bath time, Creed had never willingly removed it since that day. "It's perfectly natural for a master or a big brother to hand down their clothing."

"Yeah, okay. I see the point. Though I'm not sure why you think he needs it right now."

"I don't think I can explain properly," Train said at last, looking down at their housemate with a peculiarly gentle look. "It has to do with associations. With symbolism. He's under my protection, you see. I can't give him the love he wants but I can give him that much."

At last, Sven nodded, watching Train lay the coat over Creed. _If I were a romantic sort, or if Creed's feelings about Train didn't still weird me out sometimes, I'd think Train was beginning to get a softer spot for Creed than he used to._ But that, he decided, was just silly.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Creed woke slowly, opening his eyes and flinching against expected pain. Then he raised both brows. "Ding Dong the Dwarf is dead." He felt so much better. The pain was gone and something made him feel more than usually content. A faint scent, pleasantly musky, a mix of leather and another odor that Creed knew he ought to recognize.

"Dwarf?" Train's amused voice drew his attention sideways to his beloved Cat. Train was leafing through the funny papers at the dining table, apparently having just finished a jug of milk.

Sven's voice came from the other side of the room. "An ugly dwarf that hadn't bothered to bathe for a century or so? One that had to have been rooting around in a sewer for a while, too?"

Train's eyes lit up as he understood the reference - Sven's description of how he'd felt on waking up after Carvel had kidnapped the two of them - and Creed smiled, nodding slightly, half expecting pain to return and relieved when it didn't. _Though I have a feeling I'd better not push things._ Slowly he sat up, then blinked at what was covering him. A long black coat lay over the blankets, a coat he knew very well. "Train?" He put a hand out and touched the coat, half expecting it to disappear.

"I don't want you to get ideas," Train said in a cautioning tone.

"I won't," Creed looked up at his beloved, fingers caressing the soft leather, recognizing the odor. The odor he knew and loved most. Leather, milk, gunpowder, all mixed with the faint scent that was Train himself. He looked up at Train and forced down the little child part of himself that wanted to leap up and bury his face in Train's shoulder. "I understand. Satan _would_ get behind and push... if you gave me the same kind of comfort I gave you." There was the faintest twinge of pain at the thought, that his need for Train's love was still so strong that Train couldn't trust him not to take that sort of kindness wrong.

"You're at your weakest right now, Creed. It wouldn't be fair to make you fight that sort of temptation. Not when it's something you want so badly." Train sighed. "I wish you didn't feel that way. Not for my sake, but your own."

A smile crossed Creed's lips. "It's all right... well, I'd be much happier if it weren't the case... but I do know that you'll never love me. I won't say it's fine, because it _does_ hurt." He looked at Train and forced his thoughts to stay on track. "But it's a pain I can live with. That I have anything of you is more than I can ever deserve... Train, why are you looking at me like that?"

Train's expression was indescribable. His lips had pursed and his eyes had narrowed. "Train?" Creed sat up and stared at his beloved. "Uhm... Train?"

"Your headache's gone, right?"

"Uhm... yes?"

"Good."

Before Creed could do more than jerk slightly backwards Train was on him. "_Cut out the melodrama!_" As Train's arm wrapped itself around his neck and his other fist lightly rubbed his hair into a greater mess than it had been before, Creed started to laugh.

_He doesn't love me that way but he loves me. I can't expect the world, but at least I have one small piece of it to call my own._

To Be Continued...


	60. Intermezzo: Chronos & Others

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Intermezzo: Chronos & Hoshi **_

_**March 16, 2005: Chronos Headquarters** _

"I," Sephiria said flatly, turning off the television and glaring at the blank grey rectangle furiously, "am going to kill that man."

Behind her, Belze nodded grimly. Creed's leadership of the Hoshi No Shito had been an exercise in destruction. His challenge to the authority of Chronos could be readily and justifiably punished. Even those countries that had yet to accept Chronos as their rightful leaders could see that all Diskence was, was a murderer and a terrorist. They'd been willing to cooperate with the effort to destroy Creed's little fantasy of overturning Chronos.

Sheldon, on the other hand, was a different question. After over two years of near silence, the Hoshi were returning to the fray but in a very different manner than before. No more attacks on civilians. No more grand gestures that destroyed as much property as they possibly could. No more assassinations of those who displeased them. _Unless you count character assassination._

No, the Hoshi had found a chink in Chronos' armor. In order to rule effectively, Chronos needed to be respected by those who knew of them. Chronos needed to be seen as a serious world leadership who had only the interests of those they ruled at heart. They did _not_ need to be seen as a band of bullies and thugs who used murder and intimidation to control their interests.

It had started small. So small that Chronos hadn't even noticed the first few advertisements and newspaper articles. An editorial here, a TV spot there, all delicately hinting at truths that Chronos didn't want public knowledge. Leaders who were officially elected but actually chosen from Chronos' ranks; small manipulations of the political environment that helped keep Chronos' power where it needed to be; removals of those who threatened Chronos' order.

Usually when such things happened, Chronos had a simple and effective way of dealing with the problem. Find the source and erase it. The Hoshi, though, were never where they ought to be. A trace on a phone call would lead to a telephone pole in the middle of an abandoned field. Television broadcasts came from nowhere. E-mail would seem come from within Chronos own computers, often ones that were constantly watched and which could not have been the source. To add insult to injury, one such E-mail - a description of the now forbidden Tao drug and the tests done on it over twenty years ago - had been traced all the way back to the Third Eldest's own computer. _And considering that he was the one who convinced everyone the Tao drug was too dangerous for use..._ The old man had been livid.

The pokes and prods didn't stop there. Not only did the Hoshi reveal the ways Chronos maintained its power, but it interfered with them. Elections in a small city in America had gone entirely against Chronos' chosen candidate, partly because of revelations that that candidate had engaged in a bribery scheme that would have allowed his people to handle all the voting machines in the city, partly because someone had protected the party who _had_ won the post from Chronos' erasers, removing the man and his family from danger over and over again.

Nor were the Hoshi limiting themselves to interfering in Chronos' work. The Rosenkaveliers, too, were having troubles. Belze couldn't feel much sympathy for their rivals. The Rosenkaveliers were - after all - attempting to take Chronos' place in the scheme of things. This, however, didn't change the fact that Sheldon was making it very, very difficult to keep order.

The show they'd just watched was a sign that the Taoist group was stepping up the pressure. Chronos didn't interfere with the entertainment industry in general. Doing so just tended to make their role too obvious and weakened their position. Much of Chronos' power depended on secrecy. People just didn't know what was good for them, sometimes, and it was better to let them think they had an opinion that mattered, rather than make it obvious that they didn't.

This show, political commentary that masqueraded as comedy, was one such example. As long as it mocked the apparent government, as long as it gave the appearance of being the bold, incisive comedy that represented the 'common' man's need to stand up to what was supposedly wrong in the world, the show could be tolerated. For it, and Sheldon, to reveal the truth, however and - worse - poke fun at the _real_ rulers of the world went far beyond the acceptable. "We'll deal with them," he promised Sephiria.

Sephiria opened her mouth to speak, only to stop as the phone rang. Belze was unsurprised by her expression when she answered. They had to have seen the show. _There is,_ he thought, _going to be trouble in the near future_. Lots of it, if Sephiria's grim voice and hardened features meant anything. "I've seen it and we will be dealing with the matter. Immediately."

.oOoOoOo.

_**Somewhere in Los Angeles**_

The team moved silently, surrounding the studio. At last, at long last, the Hoshi had erred. Their previous broadcasts had been untraceable. This time, however, Sheldon had slipped up. This time they would find the blonde bastard and drain every drop of his protean blood from his body.

"Sir?"

The Commander stopped. Eyed the newest of his recruits with a sigh. Turned down the sound from the receiver he was using to monitor the damned fool's show. "What?"

"What if it's another trick? The last time they appeared to be broadcasting from space station Mir."

Another sigh. "Idiot. The last time they were broadcasting their own advertisements. This time they've involved a show that's being broadcast live. They can't get away with that trick now." He smiled, knowing the expression would be hidden by his black ski mask. "We have the bastard dead to rights. Literally."

The young woman coughed. "Er. But what if this is another kind of trick. He's been saying we're a band of thugs and murderers. If we kill him on national TV won't we be proving his point?" At his glare, she added, "I'm not saying he doesn't deserve to die. Just wondering if it's a good idea to make him a martyr."

With a laugh, the man continued down the hall. "Why do you think our uniforms are all black today?" Though he couldn't see her face her body language said that she was puzzled. "We will kill him, but Chronos will take the credit. And the blame."

So saying, he stepped thru the doors leading to the Everyday Show's studio and came to a startled halt. _What the hell?_

Dozens of faces turned to look at the Commander. Proles of all sorts, not one worth the air they were breathing. Camera men and other studio workers. On the stage, the comedian turned social commentator was busily talking to his guest. Elegantly dressed in old fashioned clothing, strangely formal in their manners, there was only one problem. That beautiful, auburn haired woman was most definitely _not_ Sheldon Flamberge.

She was leaning forward, touching the host's arm, body language sending signals that were a clear message of desire. "In my experience, Sean, some men go to the theatre. Others _are_ the theatre."

The laughter that followed distracted the audience near the back from the Commander and his team. Oddly he felt relieved. Ordinarily he'd have wanted the attention, wanted everyone to be staring at him and drawing back in terror. Right now, though, he wasn't sure _what_ was going on. He hit the button on his receiver, increasing the volume again so he could hear the broadcast. To his shock, Sheldon's voice came over the line.

"Amusing, isn't it? They really thought this was a real broadcast."

Another voice, exactly like that of the man sitting behind the desk but saying something entirely different, spoke. "Well it _is_ a real broadcast. Just not of the Everyday Show." His tone turned worried. "They look ready to kill, though. Are you sure..."

"No need to worry. We have them covered." Sheldon's calm response caused the commander to spin around, searching for some sign of spies. Nothing. The cameras were all pointed away from the doorway and - strangely enough now - everyone was ignoring them. "As I told you earlier, Etesu... I mean, _Sean_, we of the Hoshi are no longer willing to tolerate civilian casualties in this war."

That answered one question. The Hoshi had a team member capable of taking different identities. No doubt the entire setup had been faked. _And we walked right into their trick,_ the Commander thought angrily.

"Sir? Do we abort?" That stupid newbie again. She had no idea how a war was properly run. "Sir?"

"Shut up. Continue. It's Chronos that will pay the price." To the Commander's shock he heard his words thrown back at him thru the receiver. He paused again, beginning to comprehend the full nature of the trap. _How long? How long have they been recording us? How much have they overheard?_ He raised his rifle and began firing.

.oOoOoOo.

**_Somewhere in Italy_**

The scene on the monitor would have been mass chaos. The Rosenkaveliers were proving their willingness to destroy what might be inconvenient to them, the reaction Sheldon had entirely expected and had been prepared for. The man behind the desk sucked in his breath, fear in his eyes and Sheldon gave him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, everything will be just fine." Sheldon gestured at the monitor, silenced up until now. The sound of gunfire was loud and would have been unnerving if Sheldon weren't already quite used to it. Under ordinary circumstances, the crowd would have been screaming and running, those who hadn't fallen to the spray of bullets. Fortunately, ordinary circumstances were being ever so slightly shifted. "One of my people's skills include creating an area of existence a half-step out of reality. As soon as the Rosenkaveliers stepped thru that doorway they were no longer in this world. They see reality, yes. Hear it, yes. But they no longer exist within it."

"What will happen to them?" the other man asked.

"As soon as they've run out of bullets and as soon as they realize they can't touch anything, I'll have my man release them in an appropriate venue. One where only those involved in this war will be at risk." Sheldon smiled wryly as he glanced at Shiki, who looked up from his crystal ball and nodded, giving him the thumbs up. As expected, Sephiria - watching the show from wherever she might be - had figured out exactly what he meant by that statement. She'd be very ready for his gift. _Thanks, Shiki._ The Taoist might not entirely like Sheldon's plan but he was cooperating. Sheldon needed him and knew it. Shiki's ability to scry long distances was as vital as Ekidona's ability to travel them.

"I'm wondering," the host said. "You seem very concerned about casualties these days. But weren't the Hoshi responsible for..."

"That attack on New York? Yes. Regrettably so." Sheldon had expected this question. "As you may have noticed, though, there's been a change of leadership. Our former leader was trained by Chronos and used Chronos' methods against them. Too, I'm afraid that Creed was a few cards short of a full deck."

"Nuttier than a fruit cake?"

"Pecan pie." At the man's startled look, Sheldon expanded, "There aren't nearly enough nuts in a fruit cake to describe Creed." Remembering the last two times he'd seen Creed, though, Sheldon thought that the current insanity was probably much to be preferred to the old one. Being a silly goose didn't tend to result in mass destruction or homicidal mania. He smiled, "But, of course, much of the reason that the Hoshi have been so quiet of late has been a reordering of our mission. Our purpose, to ensure that totalitarian, tyrannical and despotic leadership becomes a thing of the past, remains the same. Our methods, however, have changed. We cannot, we _will_ not, attempt to change the world the way either Chronos or the Rosenkaveliers intend to. The ends do not justify the means and it's high time the leadership of both those organizations understood that."

The next few minutes were spent watching the entertaining spectacle of the Rosenkaveliers attempting to grab at the audience where they were and finding themselves utterly unable to touch anything. It was, Sheldon thought, somewhat sad of this group. They had to be able to hear what he'd said and they were still fiddling around as if - somehow - they would break thru Doctor's warped world. _I won't depend on that stupidity, though. They'll learn better, all too quickly. _

At last, deciding he'd given Sephiria quite enough time to prepare, he said, "I think it's time, Ekidona." Somewhere in Los Angeles, he knew, the young woman was hidden in the audience, awaiting the right moment. Just as Doctor released the group from his trap, she sprang hers, tossing them into the waiting hands of the Chronos agents who'd been sent to deal their own blow to Sheldon but had gotten there just a touch too late. Sheldon hoped Sephira appreciated the fact that it had all been a matter of timing and that the Chronos team would have been in the same position as the Rosenkaveliers had they moved just a bit faster. _I'm a peaceable man, Number One. But I am not a kind one. From where I sit, the only difference between Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers is the amount of power you wield._

As the show went off the air, Sheldon stood up and bowed to the man behind the desk. "I really must thank you," he murmured, even as four figures appeared in the room. Ekidona, accompanied by Doctor, a woman garbed in the Rosenkavelier's black uniforms and a perfect twin to the host. "I realize how unnerving all of this must have been."

"Edifying as well, Sheldon. You always were a leg-puller." Sean grinned, a bit uneasily. "Anything for an old friend. Especially when it means helping bring Chronos down to a manageable level." Sean shook his head. "You sure it won't bring any trouble to my people?"

"We'll keep an eye on things. But we've covered your ass pretty well," Sheldon told him, picking up his top hat and replacing it on his head. "As of now, Sephiria and the Rosenkaveliers think that everything that happened was part of yet another of our bait and switch trickery and - hopefully - won't get the idea that the version of you talking to me was the real thing. I thought about doing it that way, but..."

"I insisted. Well, after all, it's not everyday I get to interview the leader of a former terrorist organization. Too bad I won't be able to list that on my credits." Sean stepped out from behind the desk. "Still, I'll be very glad to get out of here. This place makes me nervous."

"Can't blame you in the least. Ekidona? Would you escort my friend home?" Sheldon smiled at the lady in question. She smiled back and nodded, taking Sean's arm and leading him away.

As Ekidona returned Sean to his place, Sheldon eyed the others. Shiki was calling back the insects which his magic had disguised as humans. Doctor was leaning against a wall with a book and a cup of coffee while the woman was shifting back into Etesu, 'her' uniform baggy and misshapen around the orangutan body. "I do good, Boss?" he asked, lighting a cigar. Leon, busily keeping the air flowing thru the room, glared at the ape, who had the good sense to realize his error and quickly snuff the thing out.

"Very good indeed, Etesu." He looked at the last man as Sean's features tore away from a sharply pointed face framed with black hair. Fragments of thin, light, latex fell to the floor as a sly smile crossed Tse-Rao's features. He was their newest recruit and one whose skills would make him quite valuable. _But then, they _all _are._ "And I'd say _you_ got plenty of reward, getting to interview Lady Heather."

"Well, I admit, that was a bonus," Tse-Rao answered. "Of course, your payment will also be a pleasant addition." The sly smile curved into a more lascivious one. "I'm looking forward to the private interview later."

Sheldon reflected that this particular Tao user, untrustworthy though he could be, had his uses and had very much earned both the payment and the bonus. His skill at masquerade, while having nothing to do with his Tao skill, was matched by his talent for mimicry. Etesu, even when shaped by the bodies of those he wore, remained Etesu on the inside, even thru the template of the other person. Tse Rao, on the other hand, could _behave_ like the other person to a point that - from a reasonable distance - no one would know he wasn't whom he claimed to be.

Ekidona appeared then and Sheldon bowed over her hand. "Lady," he murmured. "Without you, this plan would be futile. I owe you chocolate, wine and a dinner. Many of them."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" That was Maro, standing at the edge of the room and maintaining its existence in its hidden location. Shiki gave his bodyguard a disgusted look and muttered something about someone being corrupted by outlanders.

"Indeed," Sheldon answered. "In fact, I'd say we all did quite well and that it's very much time to make tracks. A big dinner for all of us is in order after all the Tao we've been using. Besides, sooner or later Chronos and the Rosenkaveliers are going to trace this signal and while I doubt they're going to be searching the depths of Mt. Vesuvius anytime soon, there's no need to leave them any evidence." He bowed again to Ekidona. "If you'd do the honors, my dear?"

"Gladly," Ekidona answered, smiling, as she opened the way. "The equipment?"

"Will have to be left to the volcano's tender mercies. We haven't time to retrieve it." Maro had brought the equipment in with him, using his power over gravity and stone to create the enclosed chamber and make it safe for human habitation. Ekidona had yet to expand her Tao to the point that she could take the whole room with them, though she was definitely improving every day. "We have more than enough," he added. "No need to worry."

As they stepped thru the opening to a distant hillside overlooking the mountain, Sheldon reflected that his plan wasn't nearly as fast as Creed's would have been; that it was very much more complicated than baiting a trap with oneself and forcing Chronos' leadership to seek you out. It was also, he thought, a hell of a lot more fun.

To Be Continued...


	61. Left Behind

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Left Behind **_

_**March 20, 2005** _

"I _do_ understand," Creed's voice was sad, but he was obviously attempting to put a bright face on. To Sven, the effort was about as successful as Creed's little boy smile, though for different reasons. "I'm not up to chasing around the rooftops, yet, am I?" He glanced out the window at the early morning light, watching Eve pack the car with a wistful expression.

Feeling rather like the owner of a very young and chastened puppy who wanted to go out and couldn't, Sven nodded. "The infection's pretty much run its course, but you exhaust too quickly still. Another week and you'd be fine... I mean... okay, but not right now. The last thing we want is for you to have a relapse." He cursed the ill-luck that made it necessary to go after their next target _now_ instead of a week later. _But he's moving around fast. We can't afford to wait._

Creed's eyes filled with tears. "I know." He sounded pathetic and apparently realized that as he straightened, wiped the tear away quickly with his wrist and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I won't cry. I suppose it'll be Naizer watching me? He's the only one Sephiria would trust, now."

Sven wished he could say different. Naizer was no longer expecting much out of Creed, had taken to simply hanging in the background muttering under his breath when they were together, but he still made Creed nervous. "I'm afraid so. Train's gone to meet him." He looked at his housemate, worriedly.

A tiny, wry, smile worked Creed's lips sideways. "I'm not going to fall apart, Sven. I'm disappointed not to go, but... I think I knew I wouldn't be. Not if a job showed up so soon." His dark eyes met Sven's. "I'll just try and stay out of Naizer's way. Do you want him to sleep in a room, or will he be on the couch?"

"There are times when you surprise the hell out of me, kid." Sven smiled wryly. "He can use my room."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Train watched his former compatriot climb out of the battered old Mercedes Benz and come up the walkway. "I hope you realize that I had to cancel my vacation for this?" the man demanded as he approached.

"Yeah, well Creed isn't exactly going to be thrilled to have you, either, so the feeling's mutual." Train eyed the taller man. Dressed in a sweater and a pair of black jeans, Naizer still managed to look like he was in uniform. "One other thing. He's been sick. About the sickest he's been for several years. He's getting left behind and left out."

Naizer rolled his eyes. "This is supposed to matter to me how?"

"Simple. He's incredibly vulnerable, right now. You upset him, bully him or hurt him in any way and when I get back I'll find out what kind of job _I_ can do pantsing you. With Hades."

There was a long silence as Naizer stared at Train. At last, raising a brow, the Chronos Number demanded, "Exactly why is it that you're so damned protective of that little twerp?" His expression was sour and more than slightly disgusted. "All three of you spoil him."

Train sighed. There might have been a time when he would have agreed, but that was long ago. "If I was spoiling him I'd have given him the one thing he really wants a long time ago. He more than repays us for what we give him and it's not like showing him a bit of consideration and concern is going to kill us or make him go back to killing everything in sight."

A small snort escaped Naizer's lips. "As he is now, he's practically useless..."

**_.oOo._**

It occurred to Naizer even as the word left his lips that he'd made an error in judgment. Train's expression shifted from mildly annoyed to the cold, deadly, look of the Black Cat. It was a look Naizer had only heard of before and he suddenly understood just how the former Number Thirteen had acquired his reputation for deadliness. The chill in the air was palpable.

Slowly, Train spoke. "I don't care what you call him out of ear shot. But wipe the words 'useless' or 'garbage' out of your vocabulary when you're talking to him."

Puzzled, Naizer stared down at the Black Cat and tried very hard not to let the man's expression faze him. It was only barely working. "Why?"

It was amazing just how cold amber eyes could be when their owner wanted them that way. "You wouldn't care even if I told you. It comes under the heading of bullying and that's _all_ I'm going to say on the matter. Just remember what I said about pantsing. Give me a big enough excuse and I'll do a whole lot worse."

As Train swung around on his heels and headed back into the house, Naizer sighed and followed, carrying his bags. This was going to be a long week.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Eve glanced out the car window back at the house, where a slim, dark-clad figure was standing. Creed's expression was cheerful but there was an odd, wistful air to his pose. He was wearing Train's black coat over his shoulders, hands buried in the sleeves as if he were cold. Somehow, though, Eve knew it was for comfort. She'd been around him long enough to know that beneath that apparent calm was a small boy trying not to cry as he watched the grownups go away and leave him.

_And when did I start thinking of myself as a grown-up?_ She glanced at herself in the mirror, seeing the still childish face and serious expression. She looked like a little girl. Yes, she was taller than she had been when she'd first joined Sven and Train but she was still tiny and fragile and immature looking.

A part of her was annoyed at that, rather to her puzzlement. Being small and delicate looking didn't make her any less capable of doing what needed to be done as a Sweeper. If anything, her appearance was a plus in her favor. It made their targets take her less seriously, put them off their guard. At least until she brought her nano-machine hammer down on their heads.

"He'll be okay, Train." Sven's comment made Eve glance back at her other partner. To her surprise, Train was looking out the back window, watching Creed until a turn in the road obscured him from view. The oddity distracted her from her own mood. Usually Train settled down for a nap when Sven was driving, pretty much ignoring the world until it was time to act.

Turning around, Train shrugged. "Yeah. I know. He'll be just fine." Something in his tone, though, made Eve wonder if the Black Cat really believed that.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

"Dance into the fire. That fatal kiss, is all we need. Dance, into the fire..."

Naizer shook his head as he watched his charge putting away the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. _That is just wrong._ The fact that Creed apparently liked Duran Duran wasn't really a surprise - the little twerp would like that sort of music - but his singing was too damned sweet and pretty for most rock music. Particularly the sort of rock music Creed apparently adored.

Watching the pale-haired man move, slowly and carefully, through his routine, Naizer sighed. Everything about Creed was irritating. From his voice to his appearance to the fact that he was currently wearing Train's old black coat and showed no signs that he planned to remove it any time soon. _And I'm supposed to make it thru a whole week with him? _

"Do you want more to eat?" Creed asked, without looking at him. "Or another cup of coffee?"

It occurred to Naizer that Creed was making an extra effort to be 'nice' to him. _I suppose I should appreciate it, but he's so damned tensed up that I'm afraid to open my mouth._ It wasn't just the pantsing threat, though that did play a part in his concern. The main thing was the fear that the wrong word at the wrong time might somehow send Creed spiraling down into some sort of maniacal relapse. "I'm fine."

"It's really no trouble. I can fry up more eggs. The coffee maker's almost full..." It was obvious that Creed was blithering out of sheer nervousness. It was equally obvious that he was pathetically eager to please. Naizer's silence seemed to make the man even more nervous. "Or I could get out some herring and make some toast. Or even some waffles - though that will take a while and we don't have any syrup..."

"Creed?"

"Yes, Naizer?" Creed's voice had a soft scared sound.

"Be quiet."

"Yes, Naizer." Dark eyes, big and puppy-like, looked sadly at Naizer, eliciting an impatient growl that resulted in a frightened little flinch. "I'm sorry."

It took a real effort not to yell. "Creed. Go finish your chores. Don't talk. Sing if you have to, but leave me alone until you're done."

"Yes, Naizer."

**_.oOo._**

It took longer than usual for Creed to finish his work. Part of the problem was the sense of disapproving eyes on him, though Naizer was obviously making every effort possible not to comment. The biggest difficulty, though, was that - quite simply - he was still physically exhausted.

A small chuckle escaped him at a memory and he glanced guiltily over at Naizer. The man sighed. "Well?"

"I was just... remembering an argument... Doctor and Shiki used to have. It's nothing." Naizer raised a brow and gestured for him to continue. "Shiki always made fun of the fact that the nano-machines can't fight the common cold. But Tao doesn't do much better." He shrugged at Naizer's expression. "You probably had to be there."

Naizer sighed again, "Finish up. I want to talk to you and I want your undivided... as much as is possible for you... attention."

That only made Creed less anxious to finish, but a natural distaste for messes kept him from dawdling too long. At last he sat down across from Naizer, putting both hands on the table and gazing at the older man quietly, forcing himself not to show how scared he was.

"I'm going to ask you a question I asked Train. He didn't explain and I need to know." Naizer eyed Creed consideringly. "Before I do, though, I want to make one point clear. I'm not calling you anything of the sort. I just want to know why it's a problem." A cold chill twisted through Creed and he knew what was coming. "What's the deal about 'useless' and 'garbage'?"

Desperately trying to breathe seemed about the only thing Creed could do at that moment. He'd hoped he wasn't looking too pathetic or obviously disturbed, though he couldn't think how he could avoid it. Very slowly he whispered, "I... The man who... ran that asylum I was in used to call me that." He struggled for breath, for some semblance of pride, forcing himself to speak firmly despite himself. "He was wrong. I know he was wrong. But it's taken me a long time to get over it."

Naizer's expression showed nothing of his thoughts and Creed couldn't help but shift, nervously. "It's not like I can help it. I do my best, Naizer. I've always tried to do my best." He gave the older man a pleading look and forced himself not to keep talking.

With a sigh, Naizer shook his head. "Should I presume that my reaction to the blather and this Doctor..."

"Carvel."

"Carvel's... is pretty damned similar?"

Creed managed a weak little smile. "You never put me in solitary confinement or drugged me to keep me quiet. Though I'm sure you've been tempted." He looked at his hands and saw they were shaking. "I am what I am, Naizer. Screwed up in the head and doing the best I can with what's left. I have never _tried_ to be difficult. I just _am_."

"Okay."

Blinking, startled and a bit non-plussed, Creed stared at his guard, who shrugged. "I'm not going to try and make you feel good about yourself, Creed. That's asking entirely too much of me. However, I'm also not here to make you feel worse. So, though I think you're too damned weird for words, I also won't complain about it. Just leave me alone if you're in a chatty mood, because there's only so much a man can take."

**.oOoOoOo.**

Sven glanced back thru his rearview mirror and sighed. As usual, Train was ignoring his effort to make plans for their next job. Eve, on the other hand, was being as attentive as possible and it occurred to Sven that this was one of the few times that he'd actively worked with her since Creed had come to live with them. It was, he thought, sort of nice, because he appreciated working with her. _Worrisome, too. I don't like taking her on this job. That guy's dangerous. _

Realizing that he needed to focus on business, Sven went on describing the habits of their next target. Nicolas Soren, wanted for armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon and murder, the man traveled from town to town, conned his way into friendships with those best suited to his purposes. Robbing a bank, he'd find the teller most disgruntled by his job, or the one searching for romance in her mundane life. Others from the edges of society would be recruited to assist, would be duped into believing that the robbery would improve their lives. Only to be murdered when their usefulness was at an end.

The last job, however, had gone disastrously wrong for Soren. He'd been forced to kill one of his dupes early when the man's asthma attack that had interrupted preparations for the heist. Worse, he'd been forced to flee the scene before he could gather the items the dupe had been buying. The police had figured out the truth and had closed in on him. The final straw had been when the secretary of the company he was going to rob confessed, frightened by the first murder.

"He tried setting something up in Bern," Sven said at last, "but the police got the word out in time. Word is that he may be headed for Lucerne next. It's a good distance away and has a big enough population that he can probably lie low for a while before trying anything."

Eve considered the information while Train ignored it. _He_ didn't care what Sven planned, Sven knew. He'd let things go the way they went and - when the time was right - he'd make his move. Generally, it was in line with what Sven wanted, though perhaps a bit more destructive than required. The only real use he had for the plan was so he knew where Sven and Eve would be. Not for the first time Sven found himself wising that noogies and smacks upside the head worked as well on Train as they did on Creed. _Can't train a cat the way you can a dog. More's the pity. _

Eve's suggestion went unheard for a moment while Sven contemplated that longed for day when Train paid attention to him. Then he realized what she was saying and felt the blood drain from his face. "No! You are _not_ going to do anything of the sort!" Sven barely kept his voice from rising to a yell as he protested Eve's suggestion that she pretend to be Soren's daughter and search for him that way. "This guy's a killer. I don't want you..."

"I'm a Sweeper," Eve's tone was chill, reminding Sven of just why it was she wouldn't work with him alone anymore. "Just like you. Just like Train. I was fighting and protecting myself for three years before I ever met you. I may not be able to take down a full grown dinosaur, but unless this man has nano-machines or Tao, I'm not going to be in much danger from him."

Train snickered and Sven shot his partner a dirty look as the Black Cat grinned at him thru the mirror. "She's right, Sven. You can't protect her from everything. Let her do her job. She's a Sweeper. Let her Sweep." He closed his eyes and lay back against the seat. "Now quit arguing. You're too noisy. I can't nap properly when you two fight like that."

With a sigh, Sven used his hat to rub his forehead. Sometimes he wondered just why he bothered.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

The day passed amazingly uneventfully. One thing that helped, of course, was the fact that Creed was well enough to work at Cait Sith, which meant that while he had to go along, Naizer didn't have to listen to the blather. Indeed, the worst of it was aimed at people who seemed to find Creed highly amusing and fun to be with.

Watching 'Vee Vee' perch on a barstool and trade quotes with Creed, the Chronos Number thought he could understand why Sephiria didn't want to trust Number Ten with their problem child. Oh, the ability to deal with Creed's oddities was a plus, but Xiao Li seemed to enjoy the banter entirely too much.

"Why do you bother with that outfit. He knows who you are," Naizer asked quietly during a lull in the conversation when Creed was busy serving a noisy group of teenagers who were encouraging him in a balancing act with their meal, attempting to provoke him into spilling something. Fortunately for the café, and for Creed's position with Annette, his physical prowess was such that it would have taken more than a band of unruly kids to cause a spill.

Vee Vee leaned in a friendly way on Naizer's back and rubbed his bald pate, grinning as her long blonde hair spilled over her fellow Number's shoulders. "It makes him feel more comfortable. When I'm myself, he feels like he's under guard. When I'm Vee Vee, I'm a buddy."

"A... buddy." Naizer shook his head. Xiao Li's costume as Vee Vee wasn't the sort of thing he associated with buddy buddy comradeship.

Vee Vee nodded, sitting down beside Naizer and watching the show with an amused expression. "He loves Train. I look nothing _like_ Train like this, so I'm not a threat to those feelings." There was a faint note of regret.

"Why the hell do you like him?" That was one thing that Naizer couldn't understand. What was it about Creed that made so many people take such a fondness to him? "I mean, I know you've got some weird ideas, but what makes _him_ so special that you'd risk the kind of trouble you _know_ you could be in by..."

"By wanting to take care of him?" Vee Vee leaned on the back of her chair, gazing at the slender figure. Creed was dodging a half-hearted attack on his tray, Train's coat swirling around him as he dropped below a tall skinny kid's sweeping arm and came up beside the table. "He arouses protective instincts."

"Shyeah, right."

"Naizer, you aren't exactly the most protective of critters. But, tell me something. If he were a very young child, would you still not understand?" Vee Vee looked thoughtfully at Naizer, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Snorting, Naizer shook his head. "He's not a child. Not a woman, either."

"And if he were?"

Hesitantly, Naizer shrugged. "Okay. If he were a kid I'd understand the urge to protect him. Maybe even if he were a woman. He's not, for all he acts it."

A small secret smile crossed Vee Vee's face. "Yes, he is. Well, I don't think he's a girl at heart, or, maybe he is... all those excess emotions and fondness for pretty clothes... ah... don't tell Sephiria I said that, by the way. But he _is_ very childish. Very sad, very lost and very unhappy. Or he was. He's a lot happier here, with people who like him and care about him."

With a low grumble, Naizer shot back, "They spoil him, you mean." He was repeating himself and he knew it, but there was something about Creed that made him feel utterly frustrated.

"I think you know that's not true." Vee Vee glanced at 'her' compatriot. "You don't think that just because he's gotten all fragile and confused he doesn't still want to kill people, do you?"

"I... Yeah, I guess that's true." Naizer still remembered the look on Creed's face the one time he'd pushed the man too hard a month or so back. That had been the face of a killer. The face of a man who simply didn't care about human life. _I suppose I don't either, in some respects, but I'm not as bad as Balder and Krantz._ He sighed. "And I suppose that pretty smile of his is part of it too?"

"Nah. That's part of why I wanna schtup him." Vee Vee grinned, adding, "Psych!" as Naizer gave her a startled glare.

With a sigh, Naizer shook his head. "There is just _no_ talking to you."

The grin just broadened, then suddenly turned serious. "Naizer, will you take my advice?"

"About?"

"Avoiding getting pantsed?" At Naizer's expression, Vee Vee shrugged. "I was on duty when you arrived. I couldn't help but notice." She looked at him directly. "You're not very good with kids, of course, but I know you're capable of handling real ones. So... the thing to remember with Creed is that you're dealing with a very childlike personality."

"Childish," Naizer corrected dryly.

"In Creed's case, it amounts to the same thing. So if you think of him as being a thirteen year old stuck in an adult male's body, and a very emotional and troubled thirteen year old at that, you'll have a less difficult time dealing with him."

**.oOoOoOo.**

_Black eyes stared at him from beneath a dust and spiderweb covered mop of white hair. A tear-stained face was raised to him, twisted with unhappiness. "It's okay. It's fine. I'm where I belong, Train. Just keep me here. I'm garbage... useless..." Creed collapsed into a fit of hysterical tears, hiding under the remnants of the wooden stairs. Around them, the house was burning down, ripped apart and shredded by Creed's Imagine Blade. _

_Behind Train, Naizer's voice was coolly amused. "Good to see he knows his place. You didn't really think I was going to spoil him the way you do, did you? Stupid fool." Train turned on the man, hand going for Hades, but Naizer faded back into the smoke as he moved, disappearing before Train could vent his rage. _

_"Kill me, Train. It's fine if you kill me!" Train spun around again. Creed, lying on a stone walkway, clothing shredded, eyes filled with horror at something Train couldn't see. Again the scene shifted. Creed, looking much as he had when he'd nearly died in the sanitarium, staring blankly at nothing, eyes lost and alone. His lips worked, silently repeating Train's name, over and over again._

Train sat up rapidly, sitting up from his slumped position at the café table and staring out onto a busy street. In the chair beside him, Sven looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Hey. You all right?"

Taking several deep breaths, Train blinked at his partner. "Yeah," he said at last, trying to force the sound of Creed's voice from his head, the image of that lost creature from his mind. No need to explain his nightmare. Not when Train couldn't quite explain it to himself. For a moment he saw Creed's forlorn figure as they left the man behind to the not so tender mercies of someone who not only held no love for Creed but a deep, ingrained and barely controlled hatred. _And I left him there with that._ "Any word from Eve?"

"She's still looking. Sunday's a bad day to be searching," Sven answered calmly. Too calmly. Train noted the strain in his partner's tone but only peripherally. "She thinks she's found his trail, though."

Train was on his feet immediately. "Then let's go. The sooner we catch up with the guy, the sooner this is over." He ignored Sven's startled expression and headed out the door, barely noticing his partner's hurriedly paying for their meal and running after him. He had to get done and back home. Before Naizer could cause Creed real harm.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Creed placed the plate of steak and potatoes on the table and stepped back, watching Naizer worriedly. This was the worst part of the day for him, when all the stimulus and input his broken down brain had received overwhelmed him to the point that he simply _couldn't_ focus for more than a few short minutes at a time. "The way to a man's heart?" he couldn't help saying.

Naizer looked at the food placed before him, hands obviously clenched to avoid grabbing Creed by the collar and yelling at him. Creed flinched, then sagged in relief as the man grumbled, "Okay. Not bad. You're screwed up in the head, but at least you remember what I like to eat." His eyes met Creed's. "But don't think that's going to make me like _you_."

"You don't need to know art to know what you like," Creed informed the older man with as dignified a tone as he could muster, resettling Train's coat around his shoulders. "Just eat it."

The reaction was quite a bit better than Creed suspected it ought to have been. Rolling his eyes, Naizer just gestured off towards the kitchen. "Get your own food. I'm not going to even _try_ to dignify that with an answer."

Supper went quietly, partly because Creed had just enough sense to realize that if he started a conversation in his current state of mind he'd only infuriate Naizer. That Naizer seemed to recognize that fact as well wasn't as certain, but Creed thought - rather gratefully - that his former commander was being careful not to set him off.

At the end of the meal Creed cleaned up and went to watch TV, while Naizer picked up the paper and went out on the front porch to smoke a cigar. It felt strangely wrong, though. Evenings usually consisted of Sven going to work on the family finances, Eve to either study a book or work on the computer and Train to join Creed at the TV, kibitzing and commenting wryly on the shows Creed watched. It just wasn't the same without him there, without Sven and Eve adding their occasional commentary as the spirit moved them. Even when someone was away on a job, the one or ones left were company. Naizer was just his keeper.

Tiredly, Creed curled up on the couch, idly changing channels and staring blankly at nothing. _I miss you. I miss all of you._ Idly, his fingers rubbed at the worn leather of his coat sleeves.

**_.oOo._**

Naizer stubbed out his cigar and put away the newspaper before heading back into the house. He was rather glad he'd been warned of Creed's habit of flipping through channels because that would have been yet another irritant to deal with. As it was, it was just another of those signs that the man was simply not normal. _And I know that already._

Pausing on the stairway before heading upstairs, Naizer frowned at the man he'd been set to watch. Creed had pulled his feet up and was sitting with his knees under his chin, one hand flipping the channel changer, the other wrapped around his legs. _And he's still wearing that damned coat._ To Naizer, unsympathetic though he was, it was an odd moment of recognition and understanding. _Xiao Li's right. He's never grown up._

Dark eyes rose to meet Naizer's, big and scared, yet somehow dry of tears. Then the man turned away and stared fixedly at the TV, as if afraid to speak. _Which he probably is, considering. I've always scared him._ For a moment Naizer saw himself through a child's eyes, and thus Creed's. Big, stern, loud-voiced and often angry and impatient. He only seldom dealt with children and almost never with children not part of Chronos' training program. Yet even _they_ tended to regard him with awe and intense shyness.

_Which is not something I particularly want to change._ Understanding that he really was dealing with a very young mentality didn't make Naizer feel a lot more patient with it. Yet, in all honesty, he couldn't see a way that Creed could grow up enough to overcome that childish side of himself. _So I have to deal with him as he is and he's just going to have to learn to deal with me as _I _am._

Watching Creed a moment longer, it occurred to Naizer that the younger man was feeling particularly sad and lonely. Under ordinary circumstances he wouldn't have considered that a matter to concern him, but he might be spending a whole week with this man. _If he's lonely and depressed today, when they've only been gone a day, he's going to be insufferable by the time this is over._ Naizer realized that he was going to have to do something. Fortunately, the newspaper had given him a part of an idea. Creed would probably be bored for the part Naizer was interested in, but maybe afterwards they could do something Creed would enjoy. _Tomorrow may get interesting. But at least it's better than hanging around the house all day watching him drift around like a lost puppy. And since Cait Sith isn't open on Mondays..._

_**To Be Continued...**_


	62. Adventures and Babysitting

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_Adventures and Babysitting_**

_March 21, 2005 _

"Remember. Two hours without acting like a complete doofus." Naizer got out of the car and stretched as he gazed over the landscape. "In other words, keep the blather to a minimum, keep your hands to yourself and do _not_ wander off aimlessly the minute my back is turned."

Creed barely attended his guard's lecture, since this was about the fifth time he'd heard it. Instead he got out, resettling Train's coat around his shoulders, and searched out his sunglasses. "Now, where did I… ah, there we go." He pulled out the GameBoy he'd gotten himself for occasions like this. "All ready, Naizer. And why you're worrying about my touching the plants is beyond me. I take care of the roses but I'm not all that interested in orchids. They take too much time."

With a sigh that spoke volumes, Naizer headed in towards the building, Creed ambling along behind. Inside, the sweet scent of flowers filled the air, pleasant after riding in the car with a man who smelled of cigar smoke and cologne. Creed glanced with mild interest at the nearest flower and would have moved on if Naizer weren't deeply engaged in examining each blossom. With a sigh, Creed turned the GameBoy on, connected the earplug and stood to the side, waiting.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Train was acting strangely. Eve had always considered Train's behavior odd, of course, but that was what made his current manner strange. Never before had he been so driven. Never before had he been so intent on a case. She'd usually had to push him into action, his lackadaisical approach to Sweeping often sending her into a fury - internalized and controlled, of course.

Now, after Eve had failed to find their target - the man she'd thought would be him turning out to be someone else entirely - Train was making her go over all the conversations she'd had during her search that morning, making her describe each person's reactions to her effort to find her 'father'. Behind him, Sven was gazing at Train with a puzzled air, telling her that she wasn't the only one who found their partner's behavior out of character.

Instead of asking why, however, Eve just answered Train's questions. The people she'd talked to had all been very kind, very concerned about the little girl searching for her daddy, but only one or two had seemed to recognize the description of the medium height, blonde man with an earring on his left ear and a peculiar twist to his right eye.

"So you lost the trail when you spoke to the older man who wanted to take you to the police station." Train sat back and frowned deeply, obviously concentrating. At her nod, his frown deepened. "Maybe you should have let him take you there."

Eve glared. "Why?"

"Well, if you were a real little girl that's where you'd want to go."

With a cough for her irritation, Sven added, "That's true. We didn't think of mentioning that."

"The woman you spoke to before. Was she still in the area when you refused?" Train asked, ignoring the byplay. "What did she look like?"

Sighing, Eve wondered just why it mattered and said as much before adding, "Plain. Brown hair, glasses. Nice suit. She took me to the security guard because she figured he'd have a better chance of finding my 'father' than she did."

Sven had an interested look on his face. "You may be on to something, there, Train." At Eve's confused expression, he smiled. "Eve, you just described the kind of woman Soren would see as a target. Did it look like she worked in that office building?" At Eve's nod, Sven grabbed his hat. "There's a bank in the building, not to mention a financial institution or so. Wonder if she works for any of them." He gestured. "Let's go check it out."

Rather to both their surprise, Train was out of the car and half-way down the road before they open their doors.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

The show was better than Naizer had hoped. Orchid cultivation took a lot of time and money and the best producers tended to focus their efforts on their work rather than on display in a small town like the one Train Heartnet called home. Despite that, however, the exhibits, while small, were carefully designed and attractive.

That his companion was behaving himself made things even better. Oh, Naizer had to propel him through the rooms, at least once grasping the GameBoy obsessed Creed by the neck and pushing him out of the way of the flow of traffic. Nevertheless, Creed was keeping generally to himself, his mouth stayed closed and he didn't touch anything except the buttons of his game. Not even the fact that the man insisted on wearing those stupid sunglasses inside was especially annoying, just a mild aggravation in a list Naizer was simply becoming inured to.

Only one thing was a real annoyance and that wasn't so much Creed's fault as the result of the stereotypes that abounded in the world of flower cultivation. "Your boyfriend looks pretty bored," was a favorite line, or, "Would your… friend… like a sample?" The assumption that Naizer was dragging his current lover around the show was unavoidable, considering that gay couples were common in the field and considering that Creed's lilac tunic _looked_ like one of the flowers Naizer was examining. _Even if he'd dressed more conservatively I'd be hearing that,_ Naizer thought with a resigned feeling. _I should have expected this. _

Oddly enough, though, Creed seemed to be as offended, if not more so, by the assumption being made. He said nothing, but Naizer could see the look of pain that would cross his face everytime someone used the term boyfriend. Still, since Creed was keeping his mouth shut on the matter, Naizer waited until they were back at the car to say anything.

**_.oOo._**

"Creed. It's par for the course. There are straight men like me who like flowers, but a fair number seem to be gay."

Creed glanced at his guard as he finished buckling up. "What's the price of tea in China?" He paused, "I mean…."

"I _know_ what you mean. I'm saying there's no point in getting annoyed that people thought you're homosexual…." Naizer trailed off, as if realizing the oddity of what he was saying. "Why would it matter to you if they did, anyway? You're fixated on a guy, after all. You _do_ realize that you're gay, I hope?"

With a sigh that he rather suspected came straight from his feet, Creed put his GameBoy away and forced himself to make sense. "Naizer. I'm not fixated on him because he's a _man_. Train is Train, and that's all that matters to me. He could be female, look like Vee Vee and as long as 'he' were Train he'd be the one I belong to. Do you really think I want people thinking I'm _yours_? Now _that_ is offensive!"

It puzzled Creed that Naizer would be annoyed, but apparently he was. At last the big Number demanded, "Y'know. It's not that I _want_ to be considered your boyfriend but why? I think _I'm_ offended, now." The man's brows drew down over his eyes and he glanced sideways at Creed, glaring. "Why? Do I smell? Do I forget to brush my teeth or bathe?"

Another sigh. "Naizer. You don't want my answer." It occurred to Creed that the subject was getting too damned risky. "Please. Could we drop the subject? I don't want to fight."

Apparently the request was useless. Naizer stopped the car and took several deep breaths. "I won't yell." The words were more to himself than to Creed. Then he looked over. "I want to know what you mean. If you don't answer I'm just going to get madder at you. So tell me."

**_.oOo._**

Creed's eyes had that scared child look in them again, a look that generally only pissed Naizer off more. Right now, though, he was more concerned over the fact that - somehow - his personal hygiene was being criticized. _If I'm missing something I want to know._ Naizer wasn't especially interested in being attractive to people, particularly Creed, but he also had no wish to be outright offensive. "I won't yell. Just answer."

Dark eyes met his and seemed to steel themselves. "You smell of cigars. You smell of men's cologne. You smell of yourself." Hurriedly, Creed added, "It's not that you don't clean up. It isn't your fault. It's my own." He looked upset and unhappy. "I have a stronger sense of smell than most. I'm hypersensitive. Normal people wouldn't notice it."

The explanation was hurried and frightened but it was, Naizer thought, honest. It also explained Creed's reaction back when they'd been trapped by that avalanche. "Is that why you didn't want my coat back then? When we were trapped?" Creed nodded miserably and Naizer sighed. "I see."

Another hurried clarification. "I don't want you to think you're offending other people. I'm sure you're not. I'm sure someone would have told you if it was all that bad and you do try to keep it down. You smoke outside. You shower… You… I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

With another sigh, Naizer nodded. "If you mean you're babbling, then yes, you are." He looked at the pale haired, fragile looking, man and shook his head. "Is the hypersensitivity part of the brain damage too?"

Rather surprisingly, Creed shook his head. "I don't think so. I can remember smelling things very clearly for all my life. Everything I see, everything I hear. I either avoid as much as possible or I overwhelm it." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Naizer. I'm pretty basically screwed up. I'm sorry."

_The annoying part is that he _is _sorry._ Naizer wasn't sure why that bothered him but somehow it just did. "Creed. Has it ever occurred to you that if you can't be anything but a child in a man's body that you're better off in an asylum, where you can't get into trouble?" He couldn't help but growl angrily, "Who the _hell_ was the damned fool who thought _you_ could be trained as an assassin, anyway?" He realized he'd made a mistake as black eyes rose to meet his with Train's patented Deathglare.

**_.oOoOoOo._**

"Train, don't rush."

Train glanced back at Sven. "If that woman was his latest dupe, then he's got to realize something's up. We can't afford to give him time."

Sven felt like someone who'd swallowed a lemon and was not at all pleased with the taste. "Much as I appreciate your suddenly acquiring a work ethic, I don't want to go running in without knowing what we're running in _to._"

"Doesn't matter. We get him quick, we get home quicker."

Sven thought about stopping his partner mid-speech but they were in the middle of a crowded hallway and their conversation already risked drawing attention. Besides, Eve was ahead of them and headed into the office where the security guard she'd spoken to earlier had told them the lady worked.

Gesturing at Train to wait and stepping thru the door after her, Sven was in time to hear the girl ask, voice pitched in an oddly familiar tone, "Excuse me, is there Miss Marta here?" It was with some surprise that he recognized the tone as that of Creed at his most confused. "She was wearing a green suit."

The man Eve accosted looked startled. A kindly smile crossed his face. "Oh, Marta. Yes, she works here. Are you a relative? She went to lunch."

Eve smiled at the man and it was a shock to realize just how well Creed's careful good manners could suit a young girl. "Thank you. No, she helped me earlier this morning. She dropped a bracelet though. I couldn't bring it back until I found Uncle here." She held out a piece of silvery jewelry that Sven was relatively sure she'd created with her nano-machines and smiled back at him with a wide-eyed, innocently proud, look that sent a sharp pang of pride thru his chest. She was _good_ at this.

Sven coughed. "When did Miss Marta leave? Maybe we can catch up with her?"

With a considering frown, the office worker glanced at a clock, then at the reception desk. "About ten minutes ago. She was talking to someone on the phone, making an appointment, it sounded. Maybe she wrote something down."

Before the man could stop her, Eve stepped forward to look at the blotter. "Evriet?" she asked aloud.

Sven hurriedly drew the girl back. "Eve, it's rude to look at people's desks like that." He glanced at the office worker. "I'm sorry, sir. She usually knows better." He let his gaze fall on the blotter himself, but quickly, taking in the drawing of a slightly twisted eye. "Er… Is Evriet a restaurant near here?"

"Yes. A bit expensive, but it's right around the corner." The office worker shrugged. "She must be with that mysterious new boyfriend."

That came as no surprise. Soren was always careful not to let himself be seen by the co-workers, friends and family of his dupes - unless, of course, he was duping them as well. And an expensive restaurant would be just the sort of place he'd take someone looking for romance and adventure. "Come along Eve. Let's go see if we can catch up with her."

Somehow, Sven wasn't at all surprised to find Train already headed for the elevators. _After this is done, Train and I are having a long talk. _

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Creed somehow kept his voice soft in response to Naizer's anger. "Now _I'm_ not going to yell." He could feel the anger rising in him, though and it was an effort not to let it take over. "Do you have any idea what it was like? How would you like to be locked up and forgotten? How would you like to be treated like you don't matter, like everything you are and do is a bother? Doctor Jones was better… immensely better… but even Annealment House was _still_ a sanitarium. Aside from Train's visits and the doctors and nurses, the only people I had contact with were as or more insane than _I_ am. I may not be able to function as an adult, but why does that mean I have to be thrown into the trash? I _can_ function. I just can't function like _you_ can. Why do I have to be like you?"

Naizer was silent, staring at him with an unreadable expression, and Creed couldn't help but continue. "As for being an assassin. I may have been incapable of figuring out how to stop but I was damned good at it and you _know_ it. I think… sometimes… that if it hadn't seemed like the only thing I _could_ do that I would have gladly followed Train right out of Chronos, never hurt Saya, and just lived as he does because he wanted it. Maybe the world would have been a better place for it, too. I don't know. But if anyone taught me that what I was doing was the most important thing in the world, to value strength above everything else, it was you and Chronos. So who's to blame for what I did? Me? Or the people who taught me to be what I was and told me it was the only thing that gave my life meaning?" He paused and forced himself to add. "I'll take some of the blame, but how was I to know any different?"

The silence continued. A quiet, thoughtful silence of a sort that Creed had never heard from Naizer before. At last the man spoke. "I don't know. Hindsight is 20/20. If I'd known where you'd come from back then I would have suggested sending you back. As it is, you seem to be managing." He looked at Creed, frowning slightly. "And to me, Chronos _is_ the most important thing in the world. So forgive me if I have little sympathy for you when you betrayed us."

Creed stiffened. _Not that again._ "Naizer…." He knew he was probably making a mistake saying it but, "Would you have stayed faithful to Chronos, though, if they'd turned on Aisu?"

A shocked look crossed the Chronos Number's face. "They never would have…."

"They turned on Train. They said he had to die. They said _I_ had to kill him, if I ever saw him again. Would you have done so? _Could_ you have? If it had been Aisu who wanted out?" Creed met those hard angry eyes and somehow forced himself to stay calm. "Well?"

**_.oOo._**

Naizer wanted to thrust his fist into that pretty face to make it shut up. Except he had to admit that there was a small part of himself that knew Creed was right. He would have helped Aisu get away. _Just as Creed was going to help Train get away, except it wasn't Train._ He probably would have gotten himself entangled just as Creed had, caught in the same trap. _I might even have gone just as ballistic as he did._ Well, maybe not quite _as_ ballistic. He'd seen the tapes of that night, showing Creed's enraged and deadly exit from headquarters, trailing death behind him with the broken off blade of his sword. _Singing all the way. Madness. _

The memory of Creed's story, his side of what had happened to Aisu reminded Naizer of another question. "How the hell did you manage to get the drop on her? You said you were asleep."

Creed's eyes turned pained, agony burning in their depths, the same expression he'd worn the first time he'd told that story. "You know how much I move. I twisted at the wrong moment. She probably expected the knife to cut my jugular. All it hit was the back of my neck." His hand went up, rubbing under the hair at the nape. "All I knew was that something had hurt me. You would have reacted the same way."

The admission was hard to make, but Naizer did. "Yeah. I would have. I don't know why she didn't just kill you immediately. You were good, you might even have hurt her, but you weren't quite good enough to fight her in a one on one. Not then. Even at your best. The only reason we couldn't kill you were those nano-machines of yours."

Creed's expression startled Naizer. Sorrow, guilt… and, unbelievably, regret. "I know that. She was being kind. She didn't want me to have to see my Train kill me. I think she knew how devastated I would be - if she shot me while we were face to face. I… I'm sorry."

Rather to Naizer's surprise, he actually believed Creed _was_ sorry, if not for the right thing. Still, further discussion seemed senseless. To push it any further would be to risk setting Creed off. "Never mind. This isn't a good thing for us to be talking about." He sighed. "Let's hurry up and get moving."

A small frown drew Creed's eyebrows together. "Home again, home again, jiggety jig. Why rush?" Not said, but understood nonetheless, was that home was of no interest to Creed when Train wasn't there.

"Did I say we were going home? No."

"But…"

"It's a secret." As Creed blinked at him, Naizer grinned tightly. "Yes. It was Ten's idea. Now buckle up, shut up and wait till we get there."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Evriet was as expensive looking as Marta's co-worker had led them to believe. Even Eve, not given to being daunted by snobbery or by the opulence of her surroundings had to admit she was impressed. Though still the lunch hour, the soft lighting and hushed voices of the waiters gave the impression of a fashionable evening dinner.

The guests were well dressed businessmen and women. Given the environment, Eve was half-surprised not to see diamonds and silk gleaming in the candlelight. She forced herself to pay attention, though, as Train headed into the dining room, ignoring the maitre d' as he glanced around the room.

"What the hell is his problem?" Sven muttered under his breath. "He's been like this since yesterday."

Eve shook her head. She'd long since given up trying to understand Train Heartnet's little ways. "He wants to get back home," she offered. That much, at least, Train had made clear. Suddenly, the answer hit her as she remembered Train's expression when they'd left, "He's worried about Creed."

Sven gave her a strange look, then paused. "Yeah." He followed behind Train, obviously thinking and a worried look crossed his face, adding, "And maybe he's right to be. Creed's okay with being left with Naizer, but that doesn't mean Naizer's really okay with staying with Creed."

"He won't hurt Creed. He knows better," Eve tried to reassure both Sven and herself.

"He won't hurt Creed _physically_," Sven corrected, looking annoyed with himself. "Train warned him to be careful what he said, but this _is_ Naizer we're talking. Maybe it _is_ too much to hope that he'll take it easy on the kid. Damnit. I should have thought of that. Insisted Ten stay with him instead." Eve knew perfectly well Sephiria wouldn't have allowed it and she opened her mouth to say as much.

Before Eve could speak, however, there was a shout and a scream from the other end of the room. The maitre d' was diving away from Train and a shot echoed loudly in the quiet. That had an instant result, sending patrons fleeing for the exit, even as someone yelled "I'll kill her, I swear I'll kill her!"

Eve paused, then made for the edge of the room, hiding behind tables and dodging the escaping patrons. _Train! Even if you're worried about Creed, this is too much!_ Yet, for Train, it wasn't. She couldn't count the number of times that - impatient with Sven's plans - Train had simply and directly gone in and dealt with the problem in his own inimitable fashion. If he didn't have that famed Black Cat luck he would be dead now. _But do you have to depend on it so much?_

Now she could see the situation. Two figures, pressed against the back of one of the circular booths surrounding central area. A blonde man whose face she couldn't see was holding a gun to the head of an obviously terrified woman. She couldn't see the woman's face either, but her jacket and hairstyle was Marta's. She moved closer, drawing her nano-machines together. Not the hammer this time. There was too much of a chance of the gun going off.

"You kill her," Train said coolly, his expression taking on that cold, businesslike look that Eve recognized at the Black Cat at his most deadly, "You're my meat. I don't care if we take the full Sweep. I don't care if we get fined. I'll kill you."

"Hey!" Sven grumbled from his position behind Train. "Just because _you_ don't care doesn't mean _I_ don't."

"Give it a rest, Sven. This guy's bad news. He's killed everyone in his way from Geneva to here." Train glanced at Sven and while Eve knew he was paying attention to the danger, she also knew he was giving her a chance to act. It came quickly as Soren - thinking that the chance was his - started to turn his pistol at Train.

Eve attacked. Feathers, formed of her substance and each as sharp as razors, flashed thru the air. She'd trained for a long time to get this aspect of her nature down. Over two years ago she'd used a similar attack against Krantz. Those feathers, though, hadn't been nearly so hard, nearly so sharp. These could cut thru metal, and did.

Soren stared blankly at the remains of his pistol. It had been cut in half, leaving a useless grip and half the chamber in his hand. The rest fell to the table in front of him, clattering in the sudden silence. Train shouted, "Nice job, Princess!" as he took advantage of the man's shock. Leaping forward, he drove the man backwards into the seat, breaking his hold on Marta. The woman screeched now and - to Eve's annoyance - looked ready to have a fit of hysterics.

Before Marta _could_ fall down and start screaming, though, Sven was grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her out of harm's way. Eve moved then, jumping up to the top of the seat and using her hair to help subdue their now furious captive.

As Sven got the man handcuffed, he gave Train a glare. "Someday," he said. "Someday you're going to get killed pulling stunts like that."

Train shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Can we get this over with? So we can get home? I forgot to set up the recorder to tape my show."

Eve might have protested that Train had never worried about TV shows before but a glance from Sven silenced her, reminding her that even if Train really _was_ worried about Creed he wasn't going to admit it. To them, or to himself.

"Sure, Train," Sven said, glancing at his watch. "We'll get this taken care of as fast as possible. We should be back home by evening, given we don't have too much in the way of fines. There should be plenty of time to watch your white crested loon."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	63. Dancing Revolutionaries

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Dancing Revolutionaries **_

_**March 21, 2005 (evening) **_

"Oooooooooh" Creed stared around in rapt fascination. Lights were flashing brilliantly, sirens were wailing, bleeps bleeping and colors shifting. "Have to believe this is magic…" He would have to remember to thank Ten for his suggestion. The new arcade - Dayvenbooster's - had opened up only recently and while he'd known of its existence, he'd yet to visit owing to the family illnesses.

"Stay away from 'Blade of Honor'," Naizer said in his ear. "I heard what you did to it at Annette's."

A small pout twisted Creed's lips. "That was then. This is now." Truthfully, though, while he would dearly love to play the game in question, with its special katana hilt controller and wildly abandoned game play, long ingrained reflexes made it nearly impossible for him to do so without committing moves that weren't intended by the manufacturer. _In fact, they wouldn't have thought those moves possible._ The first time he'd played on the machine Annette had bought for the café had resulted in a leap upwards and over the back that had nearly ripped the controller's cord out of its socket. Annette had not been pleased with him. "Not until I'm better at it," he clarified for Naizer's benefit.

Naizer rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll be over there…" he pointed at the dining area, where a bank of television monitors showed various views of the room, allowing diners to watch what the players were doing. "Stay out of trouble."

"Jawohl, Mein Capitan." Somehow Creed managed to keep himself from saluting briskly before starting towards the mayhem of sound and light. _This is going to be fun…_ A thought occurred to him, a trifle belatedly and he turned back. "Naizer?"

Obviously attempting to keep his temper, Naizer turned to look at him. "What is it _now_?"

Putting effort into clarity, Creed looked into Naizer's eyes. "Thank you." Then he turned and ran off.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Train glared around the living room angrily. "Where _are_ they?" he demanded.

With a shrug, Sven put his bags on the floor and glanced at the dining table. Train couldn't help but feel aggravated at the older man's calm. "How should I know?" He went to the back door and looked out. "No sign of any watchers," he added. "Naizer's car is gone. They must have gone out."

"It's after eight!" Train protested. "On a Monday night. Where would they go?" He was feeling a chill now. What had Naizer done? Had he decided that it was worth the trouble Train would cause just to rid the world of Creed? Had Lugado showed up and tried again? _Damnit. No! I am not losing him again. I'm tired of losing people._

It was Eve whose practicality won the day. As soon as they'd realized that Creed and Naizer were nowhere to be found she went straight downstairs to the storage locker and gotten out the tracer device that Doctor had given them the year before. It needed new batteries but as soon as it was going, the small blips that showed where there were concentrations of nano-machines lit the screen. "Not very far," she said. "About two miles south of here."

Train was out the door and behind the wheel before Sven could turn and join him.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

"Push me again… This is the end…"

_This is just wrong on so many levels._ Naizer leaned against a video machine behind him, watching a duel of wits being performed by the witless. It had started simply enough, one of the other patrons of this insane asylum had decided to challenge the 'old' man to a game of… he looked at the sign above the game… 'Dance Dance Revolution'. Creed, whose insanity didn't affect his reflexes, had had no problem winning. It was a win that resulted in more such challenges.

It hadn't particularly worried Naizer that Creed was gathering this sort of attention. A bunch of maniac kids might be an irritant, but they were unlikely to cause Creed to go into a psychotic episode. If anything, it was obvious that Creed - no better than a child himself - was having the time of his life. _Two days ago he was too sick to go on a Sweeper trip. Now look at him._ If Naizer hadn't known Creed was disappointed at being left behind he would have thought the brat was faking his illness. _But the truth is, a kid will put more energy into having fun than they've got. He'll probably be exhausted by the time we go home. Which is a _good _thing because he'll sleep instead of talk._ Creed talking was bad. It hurt Naizer's head to listen to and made him yearn to throttle the young man.

No, the problem was _who_ Creed's latest challenger was. Naizer had no idea why _she_ was here but since Kyoko had long since reformed, leaving her past as a Hoshi behind her, he decided not to worry about it. Much. She had recognized Creed, Naizer was certain of that. Her startled expression when she first saw him was proof. Apparently, though, it hadn't occurred to the brainless little git that she could get herself in trouble with Chronos by associating with her former leader. _And there's no way she could know that Creed isn't leading the Hoshi anymore._ It hadn't stopped her from joining the queue of players waiting for a chance to challenge Creed.

Rather amusingly, Creed hadn't noticed it was Kyoko whom he was playing against. Focused entirely on the current game, the pale-haired lunatic had barely glanced at his challenger before starting. _In his defense, though, she's gotten taller, and a bit… um… rounder than she used to be._ Kyoko at fifteen had been a typical gawky teenage girl. Three years later and she'd grown into a potential beauty. Not as well endowed as Rinslet Walker or Ten's disguise as VeeVee, but nicely shaped nonetheless. Naizer was willing to bet she had a bunch of drooling teenage boys following her fairly often. _Like the ones over there._ He glanced at the gang of kids watching the duel with their tongues practically dragging on the floor.

That Kyoko's dress sense was still pretty lacking in modesty, showing quite a bit more leg - not to mention hip - than Naizer thought a young lady should display, didn't help matters. Especially with her bouncing around on the dance pad with such vigor that her skirt kept flouncing around her. The only reason Naizer and the rest of the room didn't know the color of her panties was because of the flickering colored lights from all the games.

Naizer shook his head, glancing at Creed. His stamina was always amazing but after ten games in a row he was finally tiring. More and more often he was missing the beat, sweat beading on his brow and shining pink and green and deep ultraviolet purple in the flickering lights. _Funny. Is his hair in the back glowing?_ Naizer would have shrugged the thought off, except he caught a glimpse of a similar glow from Creed's left hand. _I'll have to remember to mention that to Sephiria. Looks like those nano-machines of his might be mildly reactive to ultraviolet. Useful to know, if that's true._

At last the song ended and Kyoko squealed happily. "I win, I win, I WIN!" She was bouncing up and down, to every young male in the area's distinct pleasure. "Hah! Beatcha, Creed-sama!"

_**.oOo. **_

Creed stiffened. How in the name of heavenly glory had his challenger known… He turned wide eyes on the girl and stumbled backwards. _Oh… no!_ "Kyoko? What… why… You have to get out of here…" He was shaking, trembling with exhaustion as his body reminded him that it hadn't really been ready for half an hour of exertion. His thoughts tangled up as he struggled to speak clearly.

"Huh? Hey, Creed-sama, did you know your right eye is glowing a really pretty blue?" It occurred to Creed that though three years had past, some things apparently didn't change. Kyoko had never been the brightest bulb in the basket and her reaction, or failure to react, was demonstration of that.

"No, but hum a few lines and I'll…" Somehow Creed managed not to finish that sentence. Even in his current state of mind he could tell that it wasn't very appropriate. "Kyoko. Get out of here. Make tracks. I'll distract…" He turned a desperate gaze around towards the dining area then spotted Naizer leaning against a game, watching them with a sour expression. _Oh no. _

Kyoko turned and saw Naizer as well. To Creed's dismay, she simply laughed, waved happily and bounced over to him. Creed hurried and followed. "Naizer, she quit… like Sheldon had… she's not with the Hos…"

"I know." Naizer looked down at Kyoko, who was grinning at him. "I'm surprised _you_ don't. She got a dose of Train's black magic a while back. I thought you were keeping an eye on _him_ at least." He raised a brow at Creed's puzzled expression. "After Train got turned his proper age for a bit." That still didn't make sense and Naizer sighed. "When you shrank him, stupid."

Creed frowned. He _had_ been paying attention to what happened to Train after his mistake with the nano-machine bullet, when Train had taken a shot Creed had meant for Sven, but exhaustion, hurt and pain had claimed him soon after Train's transformation. He'd needed days of recovery time in Doctor's tank. No one had told him what had happened in the time between then and Train's self-restoration. "Oh. No, I'd gone bye bye for a bit." He paused, added impatiently, "And don't call me stupid!"

With a giggle that reminded Creed of just how disconcerting Kyoko could be, the girl turned to look at Creed. "Blackie said I should stop killing people. So I have." At Creed's disconcerted expression, she clarified. "Train-sama. He was very nice to me. And Miss Sephiria gave me… am.. amn… amnesty."

A small surge of jealousy started up in Creed's chest but he forced it down by main effort. He had no rights with Train, only the privileges his Cat was willing to grant him. Still, "Bla…ckie…? He let you call him… Blackie?" He felt sulky, annoyed and more than a little hurt.

"No. But it's a neat nickname." Kyoko looked thoughtful, finger to her lips. "I dunno if he likes it or not."

_**.oOo. **_

It occurred to Naizer that this simply wasn't the place to discuss things like this and he said as much. "If you're done playing around, Creed, we should go have supper."

"Okay," Kyoko said. "Sounds good to me."

Naizer blinked, a bit startled, since he hadn't actually intended to invite the girl. _The gods have it in for me, don't they?_ On the other hand, it might give Creed someone to talk to on his own mental level. On the third hand, the small sulky look Creed had sported a moment earlier when Kyoko had called Train by her pet name might mean it wasn't a good idea after all. On the fourth hand…. _You have to be a Hindu deity to get all the possible hands in._ "How do you feel about it, Creed?"

An amazed look crossed Creed's face and Naizer added, "Yes. I'm considering your feelings on the matter. Don't get too used to it."

"It… it's all right." It rather surprised Naizer that Creed was putting so much effort into speaking normally, but he had to admit to appreciating it. As late it was and as tired as Creed had to be, it couldn't have been easy. "I don't mind the company."

"Yay!" Kyoko bounced happily, then paused. "Hey. Waitaminute. Why are you two together anyway? Why isn't he fighting you, Creed-sama? Are the rest of the Hoshi here?"

Naizer wondered if anyone would notice if he throttled the girl right then and there.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Sven got out of the car as quickly as possible once Train had parked. He was reminded now of why it was he preferred to drive. Most people made him slightly nervous behind the wheel. Creed scared him because he was so easily and so disastrously distractible. Train, on the other hand, knew what he was doing and still took risks - and corners - as if there was no tomorrow. Shaken, Sven glanced at his partner, who was gazing up at the building. "Didn't Creed say something about coming here once?"

Train nodded, absently, eying the neon signs proudly proclaiming that Dayvenbusters had over a thousand different games and fifty items on the menu. "We all got sick, though," the younger man said finally. "I wouldn't have thought Naizer would bring him here."

A voice spoke from the shadows. "I suggested it to him. You're back early, Train." Sven eyed the slim, dark-haired young man approaching them. For a wonder, Number Ten was wearing his own shape and face. "That's good, though. Naizer did his best, but I don't know how much longer he could have held out."

Giving Ten a puzzled look, Eve asked, "I don't understand?"

"Naizer has trouble putting up with Creed," Ten explained. "They're natural enemies, I think. Even when they were on the same side, they never got along. Now…" From Eve's expression it was obvious that she felt Ten was talking down to her. "Sorry, Princess. I meant that between Creed being in the dumps over being left behind, Naizer being annoyed at having to watch him and neither getting along very well, we're lucky the conversation they had this afternoon didn't turn to something more violent."

At Train's expression, Ten continued, "Nothing terrible, Train. As I said, Naizer's been doing his best. I just don't know that either he or Creed could keep it up. They barely tolerate each other."

Sven nodded, "I see. Well, let's go in and get him then." He straightened his tie and glanced at Eve. "And we could probably have dinner, too. Considering that someone didn't want to stop for lunch."

Train had the grace to look mildly embarrassed.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

"Yummy, yummy, yummy! This is great cake!" Kyoko sat at the table and devoured the sweet. "I'm going to gain five pounds just from this slice!" That the pizza she'd finished off earlier probably wasn't going to help her weight was left unsaid.

"A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips…" Creed eyed his guest uncertainly. "Uhm… Sorry. That…"

"I'm just lucky I got a great metabolism. I think the Tao drug helps. I just burn off those calories." Kyoko bounced in her seat and looked at him, wide-eyed. "So you're living with Blackie. I wish _I_ got to live with him." Creed sincerely wished that Kyoko would stop calling Train that name and he bit at his lip as Kyoko continued, oblivious to her former leader's reaction. "Do you think he'd let me move in?"

Creed gave Naizer a pleading look, unable to answer a question like that without showing just how much it bothered him. With a sigh, the Chronos Number shook his head. "Miss Kyoko, I rather doubt that Heartnet has any desire to provide refuge for every reformed Hoshi member who comes his way. Creed is exceedingly lucky, undeservedly so, in the fact that Train is willing to accept _his_ presence."

"Okay. No worries. I got a place to stay, anyway." The way Kyoko shrugged her shoulders spoke volumes. Disinterest and lack of concern mixed with acceptance. It occurred to Creed that it was merely enthusiasm and over-excitement that caused the girl to be so oblivious to how other people felt. _Which is possibly better than being oblivious because you can't tell other people feel things._ He shoved that thought aside as Kyoko leaned back and sighed happily, wondering just what he ought to do now.

**_.oOo._**

It was sort of wild. Here she was with the man who'd brought her into the Hoshi, provided her with the Tao drug and a chance to fight for a cause she'd barely understood but had liked nonetheless. _I still don't like the idea of Chronos. I'm glad I don't have to be involved in getting rid of it, though._ Kyoko had to wonder, sometimes, whether she'd made the right choice.

Blackie… _no, Train-sama_… she corrected herself, remembering that Creed-sama seemed unhappy everytime she used that nickname. Train-sama had been right, though. It hadn't really solved anything, all their fussing and fighting with Chronos. Maybe, done right, they could have gotten somewhere, but Kyoko really had no idea what done right might be.

The funny thing was, she wasn't too sure Creed knew either. Not this Creed, the old, cruelly self-controlled and with-it Creed. They'd all had their own reasons and it occurred to Kyoko that none of them had really worked _with_ each other. Whereas Chronos had always presented a unified front to the world.

_I guess we weren't really thinking things through. None of us were. Oh well._ Deciding that all that was in the past, Kyoko glanced at Creed, noticing that weird glow in his eye again. "That is so freaky. How do you do that? Are you wearing some weird sort of contact?"

Creed stared, still watching her with that wary, scared, expression that said that he wasn't sure what she was going to do. Which was only fair because she wasn't too sure about him. She especially wasn't sure what he was going to say next. He really talked weird, now that he'd stopped trying to pretend to be sane. It was sort of funny, but disconcerting, too.

"Is there mud in my eye?"

_Like that._ Kyoko noted Naizer's exasperated reaction and also noted that the big Chronos Number didn't seem particularly surprised. "You were there when that Doctor fellow created the nano-machines, weren't you?"

"That's no fair. You're asking me to remember something two years ago!" Kyoko's protest sounded a bit hollow to her ears. She _did_ remember that time, she just usually didn't think about it. "I guess I remember Doctor gave Creed something like that."

"Itty bitty baby ones," Creed agreed, cutting another slice of cake for himself. "But then they grewed, like Topsy." He frowned, a peculiar, puzzled and childish frown, then lifted his left hand up, peering at it. "Oh, I see. _This_ is interesting."

_**.oOo. **_

Naizer winced. _Well, it was too much to hope that he'd have enough sense left by now. He's been pushing himself pretty hard all evening, playing like that._ Looking at the hand Creed had raised in the air, he frowned himself. "It must be a specific wave length," he commented at last. "You may want to find ways to cover it up, especially if you think you're going to be a Sweeper. That stands out."

'That' was the extremely faint blue glow in Creed's left hand. Looking more carefully, Naizer thought he could see that same glow beneath the fabric of Creed's shirt, though that was harder to discern owing to the shirt's own reactivity. Creed's right eye, of course, and bits of Creed's hair. His right canine. His nails… _Just like him to find ways to look like complete screwball. Lucky thing all these colored lights make everything look weird._

"That is sooooo cool." Kyoko's response was inevitable and Naizer didn't know whether to be annoyed or mildly amused. "Can you make it change colors?"

Creed got a peculiar, confused, look on his face as he tried to think that one out. "Uhm. I dunno. I s'pose."

"It would make sense," Naizer noted. "Since Miss Eve can give her dresses colors." He frowned a bit. "She can, can't she? I've only seen her in basic black."

"Oh, that's because black is cool," Kyoko said enthusiastically. Then her attention wandered off as she stared off at the bank of monitors. "Oooo! He's _here_! I thought you said he was on a job!"

Naizer blinked at that, then followed the girl's gaze, even as Kyoko leapt to her feet and ran off. Through the various monitors he watched her progress until, near the entrance, she leapt on a man with spiky black hair. Creed's soft voice, whispering, "Train? He's home early," explained what was going on.

Looking at his companion, Naizer was rather surprised that Creed wasn't leaping up to follow Kyoko. From his expression, it was obvious Creed _wanted_ to do just that. Indeed, he might well have wanted to leap on Train with equal abandon, possibly adding a great big smooch to make things even better. It amazed Naizer that Creed was doing none of those things, simply raising his eyes to the monitor as Train pushed Kyoko off, patted her on the head and started through the maze of machinery.

_Self-control. He's displaying amazing self-control._ Naizer wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it. It had become increasingly obvious over the last two days that Creed really depended on Train for what balance he had. That Creed was deeply unhappy when Train wasn't around. _And even as unhappy and lonely as he's been, he's not permitting himself to express his joy._ It almost gave Naizer hope for the brat. Almost.

**_.oOo._**

Train glanced down at the little device Doctor had given them. The dot denoting Creed was getting near the center, where his, Eve's and Sven's were. Eve was working on figuring out how to fool the device but hadn't - quite - got the hang of it yet. He was sort of glad, though, that Creed couldn't hide himself. It simplified finding his wandering housemate.

Spotting a crest of white hair as its owner stared, rapt and happy faced, at a bank of monitors, Train realized that he was being video-taped. He glanced around and found the camera, waving into it and eliciting a happy little bounce from Creed. _Somehow, I'm not surprised that he's still wearing my coat. He can be so obvious, sometimes. _

Behind Train he could hear Kyoko babbling happily to Eve about her last two years - school and boyfriends, mostly. It was sort of a relief that the girl had shifted her attention elsewhere. She'd filled out in the time since they'd last met and her hug had been startlingly pleasant. If it weren't for the fact that it was still far too possessive and yet - at the same time - lacking in any personal interest, Train might have felt himself in trouble.

_I don't usually feel that sort of thing. Weird._ Train shrugged it off, hurrying forward into the dining area. If Ten hadn't explained the situation it would have surprised him to find Creed here, of all places. Not because Creed wouldn't like it but because Naizer wasn't the type to indulge someone he didn't like with something fun. Particularly since Train was reasonably sure Naizer would much prefer having his teeth pulled to watching a lunatic play video games. _Okay, Ten. I owe you for this one,_ he thought grudgingly.

"Train." Creed turned and smiled. "Happy to see you." Train could see the careful way he was restraining himself, only permitting his eyes to show the sheer joy he felt. Compared to Kyoko's uncontrolled embrace it was something of a relief. _Is it just me or is his right eye glowing._ He set the thought aside for later and grinned back as Creed added, "In here, life is beautiful…"

With a laugh, Train gave Creed a quick noogie, eliciting a brilliantly happy smile. "By which I take it you've been having fun?" Beneath his arm Creed was trembling a bit, his neck damp with sweat, but Train thought that was just because, with his usual lack of sense, Creed had been overdoing things. He felt deeply relieved, though. The dream had been just that. He hadn't needed to worry. Thinking about Ten's comments, though, he thought he'd been right to push the job thru so quickly. Naizer's expression had a slightly impatient air, the look of a man who was barely enduring the situation and that only because it was his duty to. Train didn't think the man could have taken much more of what he surely considered nonsense.

"Far too much fun," Naizer said sourly. "But I presume my pants are safe?"

Before Train could answer, Creed stiffened, looking deeply hurt as he turned a startled gaze from Train to Naizer. "Train… you didn't…" It hit Train that Creed had been appreciating Naizer's kindness and wasn't happy to think it had all been driven by a desire to avoid Train's anger.

"I just told him not to upset you," Train reassured his friend. "I didn't expect him to keep you happy, just not make things harder on you."

Creed didn't look convinced until Naizer shrugged. "It's not that I like you or anything, but watching you mope is more conducive to irritating me than watching you play Dance Dance Revolution." The big man gave Creed a direct look. "Besides, you let me have my fun. Turn about is fair play, I suppose."

At Train's raised eyebrow, Naizer explained, "We went to the orchid show… and don't grin at me like that, you little pest. I happen to like orchids very much… He behaved himself pretty damned well. Despite himself."

"Took your GameBoy, huh?" At Creed's grin and nod, Train chuckled, then ducked slightly as Kyoko joined them and tried to give him another hug. Knowing she was there meant it was a lot easier to avoid her over-affectionate behavior. "Hi guys."

"Blackie. You're mean," Kyoko pouted. "Wanna go play a video game with me?"

Train considered that. "Maybe in a bit. I want supper first. Later. And don't call me Blackie." He felt Creed relax under his arm and realized that his friend had stiffened slightly at Kyoko's nickname for him. _Which is a better reaction than outright anger. I'll have to remember to talk to him about it later. _

"Awww." Kyoko flounced into a seat, grabbed a piece of the chocolate cake that was sitting at the middle of the table and cut another piece for Eve. "C'mon Eve. Let's ignore those mean old boys. What have _you_ been doing? Did you know you're glowing a bit? You've gotten taller, too, haven't you? You really look nice."

As Eve attempted to get a word in edgewise, Sven got out a menu. "Looks like some things don't change," he noted. "You going to sit down or keep using Creed as a prop? I know you're tired from our trip, but really."

It suddenly hit Train that from the moment he'd noogied Creed until now he hadn't let go of the man. It came as no surprise that Creed hadn't objected, the man loved physical contact - with Train at least - but it was odd that Train hadn't even noticed until now. _I missed him too,_ he realized, almost reluctant to let go but doing so anyway. He sat down. "Yeah. Let's eat." Then he frowned, looking from Sven, to Eve and then to himself. "Y'know. Kyoko's right. Eve's glowing a bit. So are you." At Sven's dismayed examination of his hands, Train started to laugh. "So am _I_! Cool!"

"You _would_ say that."

**_.oOoOoOo._**

Creed sat on the roof and gazed out into the darkness happily. It was quiet and cool and just plain nice up here. Here he could think about the day and not be disturbed by things around him.

It was odd, or perhaps not really so odd, but he felt a bit less like biting Naizer now. Oh, it still bothered, if not outright angered, him that Naizer thought of him the way he did, but he could see that it was because Naizer was who he was, that Naizer needed certain things to be true in order to operate. Those truths might be the case for Naizer but that didn't mean Creed was really bad. Just that they occupied very different niches in life.

_So does Kyoko, I think._ That was another problem. She was going to be in the area for a while, her foreign studies class lasting the rest of the summer, and her fondness for Train was an irritant. If Train hadn't made it clear from his reaction to her that he wasn't particularly interested in return it would have hurt all the more. Self-control was hard, harder still when it came to something he perceived as a threat. _Except she isn't. It's odd. I don't think she's nearly as interested as she acts._ It occurred to Creed that Kyoko behaved the way she did partly to avoid having to think too hard. Her parents' death at Chronos' command had devastated her and left her confused and frightened. Just as Creed had dealt with his upsets with anger and violence, Kyoko dealt with it by being a ditz.

_So I won't worry about it. Even if Train _does _come to like her, I know he cares about me too._ He remembered the feel of Train's arm over his shoulder, his awe at the fact that it had stayed there for as long as it had, and sighed happily again. Then he yawned. _It's late. I should go to bed._

Standing up and climbing down onto his porch, Creed glanced out into the woods, finding the tree where his watcher usually was. _Xiao Li tonight._ He smiled, waving, and Ten grinned back, returning the wave. 'Sweet dreams, Creed,' the Chronos Number mouthed, knowing Creed could read his lips.

Creed nodded, "Come in for the best part of waking up tomorrow?" he responded and Ten nodded. "Goodnight, then." Then he headed off to bed. It had been a nice enough evening but tomorrow, with his family home, he hoped things were going to return to normal. _Or at least, as normal as we manage._

_**To Be Continued…**_


	64. Intermezzo 16: Hoshi No Shito

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Intermezzo 16: Hoshi **_

**_March 25, 2005_**

Sheldon wiped his lips carefully with the fine linen napkin and placed it on the table beside his plate. "Our old friend's cooking is improving," he noted, smiling at his dining companion. "It was good of our 'waiter' to acquire some from Cait Sith for us." One of Tse Rao's duties was keeping an eye on their former leader's status. Shiki's bugs could check up on Creed, of course, but Shiki tended to get annoyed with Creed. Sheldon didn't want the little Tao user upset. _Not when he can put ants in my pants with a moment's thought._

Fork sliding through the last bit of chocolate torte, Ekidona nodded agreement. "It may be cliché," she admitted quietly, "But I do like chocolate very much. I didn't realize he did too, until he left us." A wry smile crossed her face, "That may explain where some of my candy kept disappearing to."

Amusing that. Sheldon would never have expected Creed to betray any sort of weakness in those days before he'd been captured and forced into therapy. But then Sheldon had never truly understood Creed Diskence and freely admitted it. He looked around the room, feeling rather pleased with himself.

The restaurant, a tiny but exclusive place at the border between Switzerland and Italy, was remote enough to make it unlikely that anyone would notice them. "A friendship coffee," he requested the waitress, a small blonde woman with pale blue eyes and a sharply hooked nose, bowed silently and left their table. _I'd love to know how he does that,_ Sheldon thought, watching the waitress walk away, hips swaying elegantly. _It's not his Tao power, but I'd swear he's got real breasts._

Deciding that trying to figure out their newest member was tantamount to giving himself a headache, Sheldon returned his attention to Ekidona and was amused to note that she had an expression similar to the one he must have sported a moment ago. He wasn't the only one who would love to learn how Tse Rao did that. They too were in disguise, but nothing so elaborate. They were just an attractive couple out on a date.

"We should keep an eye on him," Ekidona noted. "Chronos has an agent as skilled as he is. For all we know he _is_ Number Ten. Shiki should have him bugged."

"He does," Sheldon assured his companion. "Tse Rao's an unknown quantity. But, for the moment, I think we're safe enough." He was, he knew, depending on Ekidona's ability with this luncheon but he felt it worth the risk. He owed the lady this meal. Their plans needed her most of all. Besides, he enjoyed her company. "In any event, I hope you enjoyed our meal?"

Her smile was a reward. "It can be tiring," she admitted, "Rushing around, forced to stay undercover. Being the only one able to get us in and out of places."

"I'm sorry about that part," Sheldon admitted. "We need an understudy for you. I keep hoping our newer members will be suitable, but…." He sighed. "At least the members who left us had abilities that we can afford to do without." Preytor Ghoul and Deke Slasky, among others, had decided that they didn't like the 'kinder & gentler' Hoshi and had parted ways with them the month before. It was, Sheldon felt, a small loss. They, and some of the others who'd left, were serial killers whom Creed had chosen simply on the basis of their need and yearning for power. _Not a good policy. But Creed, for all his smarts in some things, was one large and very bad policy._

Somehow, Sheldon couldn't help asking, "I hope that you're satisfied with us? You're the one person we can't afford to lose at the moment." He worried about Ekidona, had never really understood her reasons for joining the Hoshi in the first place, or Creed's reasons for inviting her. _Like Kyoko, she just doesn't fit._

"I'm very satisfied," Ekidona reassured him, smiling the smile that had won the former actress fans all over the world. "I didn't think it would work at first. Neither of our opponents seem to care much about collateral damage. But the first group also doesn't like looking bad and that's having an effect. Our former leader would never have thought of such a thing." She looked sad. "But - to be honest - at the end I don't think he was thinking of anything but his old partner. He was a bit fixated."

It came as no surprise. Creed's obsession towards Train Heartnet had been obvious and more than a little unnerving for the entire time Sheldon had known the man. "More of a stalker I would have said."

She laughed, shaking her head. "It might have turned to that, yes. But I think he both wanted and feared our lucky friend." Ekidona's expression turned thoughtful as Sheldon frowned at her, puzzled. "He would have been constantly involving himself in his ex-partner's affairs, otherwise. Stalkers don't leave the ones they stalk alone for a minute. Trust me on that."

Sheldon supposed that Ekidona would know all about that sort of thing and nodded as she continued, "To be honest, I don't think he really understood his feelings much until the end. He's always been very good at creating reasons why he wants things that don't allow his weaknesses to show. That young man of his is a very definite weakness."

"Until the end? What happened to change that?"

With a flush, the actress smiled. "I think it's my fault, really…."

**_Four years ago_: **

Ekidona sat with Creed, watching him toss and turn in the cot, making no sound, his eyes tightly shut against the world. She simply couldn't figure her leader out and she felt she needed to. Whatever was going on in that head was important to understand. Was he, she wondered, going mad?

She remembered that moment when Chronos' Number 11 had brought his bazooka down on Creed's head. Her certainty that her leader would avoid the attack as he had just ten minutes or so earlier. Her shock when the man had just stood there, staring after Train Heartnet, and allowed his head to be bashed in. She had to admit to being more than a little impressed at the hardness of Creed's skull. Any other person would have been killed. She found herself wondering why the man hadn't been, if the Doctor's nano-machines were incapable of dealing with brain damage.

All that, though, didn't explain why Creed had just stood there in the first place. It didn't explain his reaction to Train's leaving and his inability to focus on anything other than the fact that Train had been cruel to him. _Like a little boy crying for his best friend._ She gazed down at the man. Creed was handsome enough, with a prettiness that might have made him effeminate if he had moved in a more fey manner. Yet for all his fondness for extravagant and flamboyant costumery, Creed had a certain something to him that she could _not_ describe as feminine. _Well, aside from the tears and those are more childish than anything else._ To be honest, she was still not sure what to make of him and she found him a fascinating study in self-contradiction.

Take his obsession with Train Heartnet, for instance. Ekidona had experienced stalkers before and knew that they usually followed one around until you were terrified of going out of the house for fear that the stalker would be there, waiting for you. They kept pictures of your every move and watched your every social interaction.

Creed would - occasionally - ask Shiki to check on his ex-partner, but mostly he seemed to spend his time dreaming of the wonder that was the Black Cat, rather than actively pursuing him. It was as if a part of him was terrified to come face to face with the man. _Does some part of him know the truth and fear to have it proved? _

Cessation of movement attracted her attention to Creed's face. Black eyes were gazing at her blankly and Ekidona almost reached out to touch Creed's shoulder. Reminding herself that he was in immense pain from losing his left arm, though, she held back and just smiled at him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Why?" Before Ekidona could ask Creed what he meant, the man blinked at her. "Why did he shoot at me? He knows I hate being shot at."

She couldn't help saying, "Maybe that's why he did it?"

Had Ekidona made such a remark when Creed was well she might well have lost her head to the man's Imagine Blade. Right now, though, he was too exhausted from pain to respond. He just blinked at her. "But why?" he asked, whimpering, "Why would he _want_ to?"

The answer seemed obvious. "He wanted to kill you, Creed." Maybe, she thought, if she could convince Creed that Train was never going to join them he'd stop wasting so much time and get to the important job of destroying Chronos.

Creed shook his head, making a disbelieving sound. "Silly. He knows better. He knows perfectly well you can't fire straight at me like that. I can deflect anything fired at me that way." Even exhausted the pride of accomplishment shone in his face, only to disappear as unhappiness took over again. "Why?"

"I don't know," Ekidona confessed. If Train hadn't been trying to kill Creed, and wasn't interested in joining Creed, then his brief interference - simply to rescue that aggravating thief, Rinslet - seemed mere risky foolishness. "Does he love Rinslet Walker, perhaps? They've worked together in the past."

The idea caused Creed to sit up and stare at her, only to slide backwards as exhaustion took over. "You saw how he treated her," he denied. "Janos showed more concern over her than he did. He just wanted her out. God knows why." He trembled. "Besides, love is a weakness. Train Heartnet loves no one. Not Sephiria. Not Sven. Not Eve. Not Saya. Not me." The last was said so softly, so weakly, that Ekidona barely heard it. "No one."

It hit her then, the answer to all her questions about Creed's behavior towards Chronos' ex-Number 13. Somehow, it didn't shock her. If anything, it merely confirmed a suspicion that she hadn't quite realized she harbored. "Creed? Do you love _him_? Is that why you want him on our side? Is that why you need him?"

Black eyes glared at her with so much passion that Ekidona knew she'd have been dead if he'd been strong enough to move. "Love?" he repeated. "Me? Love? Don't talk nonsense Ekidona!"

She wanted to protest that love wasn't nonsense. It had been love, after all, that had brought her to the Hoshi, to avenge the death of the one man _she_ had loved. Ekidona kept silence though, as Creed continued, repeating, "Love is a weakness. I would never be so weak as to love Train Heartnet." He turned his gaze upwards, staring at the ceiling. "I love _no one_. Not you, not the Doctor, not Shiki…. No one. And most especially not Train Heartnet."

"But…."

"Besides…," his voice went soft. Childish. "No one I love ever stays. If I love someone, they go away. They always go away. Just when I need them most." Ekidona had a feeling that Creed hadn't meant to say that aloud. That, indeed, he wasn't even aware of having spoken. They came from the heart, those words, and they answered so many questions about Creed that she had not been able to answer before.

_He's so lost. He does so much, works so hard and the thing he wants he can't have._ Ekidona wished she could do something about that. She couldn't, however, change Creed's heart. She could only hope that he could overcome his pain enough to do what had to be done. The Hoshi needed him and needed him to be strong. Maybe afterwards he could come to terms with the Black Cat. It wasn't likely to happen before. "Let's worry about that later," she said finally. "What's important right now is getting you healthy."

He ignored her. "Why?" he asked, tone so near tears that it hurt to hear. "Why does everyone I love always go away?"

**_March 25, 2005_ **

"The doctor I took our friend to after he was injured interrupted us then and afterwards…. Well you know the rest. He wanted to try to convince his old partner again and everything went wrong." Ekidona's voice trailed off. She couldn't be specific about what had happened but she didn't need to be. Sheldon had already been told about the disastrous attempt to infect Sven with the nano-machines, interrupted by Train's sudden arrival and subsequent blocking of the shot with his own body.

Creed's accidental infection of Train had resulted in the madman's near complete nervous collapse, followed by the shocking - to the Doctor at least - revelation that Creed's nano-machines were rebuilding him - responding to Creed's absolute need to be whole. The Doctor thought that Creed's conviction that the Train that would be coming for him would be his ultimate enemy had driven that desire and caused a mutation in his nano-machines that would not have been possible otherwise. _Must have been quite a shock when Train ended up becoming a child instead._ Sheldon said as much and Ekidona smiled wryly.

"Actually, I don't think he believed it when he was told. He had to be sedated for his elbow regeneration in any event, so he may not have really understood in any event." She shrugged. "All things considered, it's better this way. He's happy where he is."

Not said, Sheldon noted, but implied by Ekidona's tone, was that she was happy to have Creed where he was. "You cared about him."

"He was like a child in so many ways," Ekidona sighed. "I think if he'd been different I might have loved him." She smiled wryly. "But yes, I cared about him. In a lot of ways I still do. But not _that_ way. I prefer my romance with adults, thank you."

Reflecting that Ekidona too smart to take too much interest in a man obsessed with another man, Sheldon placed a pile of cash on the table in front of them. "Then you're content to remain with us," he stated rather than asked.

"Yes." She took his hand as he rose and helped her up, smiling. "Gladly."

As they left the building and stepped through the warp Sheldon wondered thoughtfully whether she considered _him_ adult enough for her.

To Be Continued...


	65. Teaching an Old Dog a New Trick

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Teaching An Old Dog A New Trick **_

_March 26, 2005 _

Sven spread the papers across the dining table, eye scanning the latest listings while he considered their bank account. The next job needed to be well paid. There'd been too much time lost to Train and Creed's illness. He and Eve had had to settle for smaller fry than usual in order to stay close to home, just in case they were needed.

_So that means we need to take one of… these._ He pulled out a few wanted posters from the pile and examined them. "This guy's too far away... I think Annette said Kevin and River were going after this one... This one's too much for us..."

Across from him, Creed made a disgusted noise. "I could handle _her_ with my left arm tied behind my back," he protested.

"Yes, but how likely is it that she'd make it through in one piece?" Sven demanded sourly. "The description says she fights to the death. That means that bringing her in alive will take extra skill. You're good at erasing. Not as good at sweeping."

Train grinned. "Oh, I don't know. The kitchen's always spotless," he noted, pointing at the floor.

Not for the first time, Sven wondered why he bothered with these sessions. Train never, ever, took them seriously. Before he could open his mouth to protest, his partner continued in the same vein. "I mean all he needs to do is make an Imagine Broom and... voom... our troubles are over. Just like Kitty Cat Z."

Sven seriously considered smacking Train, but Creed turned disgusted eyes on the young man. "Train! You know it doesn't work that way!"

"Then use your left arm instead." The grin on Train's face broadened and Sven knew he was in a particularly teasing mood. Based on prior experience that was going to make the rest of their meeting difficult, especially if Train started in on Eve. She was liable to bean Train on the head with her hammer if he took it too far. "In fact, if you work at it , maybe you could make a vacuu..."

BOP

"HEY! OW!"

Rather to Sven's astonishment, it wasn't Eve who smacked Train but Creed. The pale-haired man had transformed his left hand into a small mallet so similar to Eve's that Sven was unsurprised when Creed looked at the girl and asked, uncertainly, "Like that, right?"

"Just right, Creed. I told you he'd do this." Sven didn't want to know exactly how Eve had persuaded their junior-most partner to join in the game, especially when it involved taking physical action against Train. _Kid's come quite a way, though. He'd never have _dared _do something like that before._

Sitting back, blinking from Creed to Eve, Train whined, "Hey! You're ganging up on me. Sven, make them stop ganging up on me!" He rubbed the top of his head and checked his fingers for non-existent blood.

"If you don't straighten up and listen," Sven growled, "We're _all_ going to gang up on you. Now shut up. I need to look at these."

_**.oOo. **_

As Sven returned to his examination of the remaining Want Sheets, Train grinned to himself. Creed had been so nervous about this first real case that he'd been about to get up and start cleaning the kitchen again. Having lived with the man for nearly two years now, he'd learned the signs of self-misdirection. If Train let him, Creed would have found every reason he could think of to avoid the issue.

Train eyed his charge consideringly, seeing the dark eyes gaze seriously down at the papers Sven was placing on the table. The boasting had been uncharacteristic, too. Generally Creed either said he could do something or that he couldn't. He never bothered with trying to convince anyone of his toughness. _Yet another sign that he's nervous,_ Train thought.

"Are you paying attention, Train?" Sven asked, then added, sourly, "No, don't bother answering, I know you're not." He put a Want Sheet on the table. "This one. He's supposed to be in Lebensbaum. He's a serial killer but he preys on young women and isn't known to be much of a fighter. He should be doable."

Creed made a strange, startled noise, causing everyone to look at him. "What is it?" Train asked, serious now because Creed looked like he'd just swallowed a large and very sour lemon.

"Maybe we should choose someone else?" Creed's voice actually broke, rather like a teenaged boy's, and his expression was nervous. "I think I could control myself with that other one..."

Train knew something was up. Creed wasn't good at hiding things these days and it was obvious that the man had recognized the target. Recognized and was upset by him. Leaning forward, Train looked at the Want Sheet. "So, why is there a problem, Creed? Do you know something about Deke Slasky?"

_**.oOo. **_

It would have been nice if he could lie. If Sven had asked the question Creed knew he might well have done so, preferring to evade the truth for as long as possible. It would also have been nice if he could use his tendency to quote as a way to misdirect the issue. That, though, wouldn't fool anyone. Sven had chosen early morning for a reason and not one of his family would believe Creed if he descended into his usual blather.

In a very small voice, Creed whispered, "He's one of mine... I mean... he _was_ one of mine." At Sven's puzzled expression he added, "I recruited him when I led the Hoshi."

Dead silence. At last Eve asked, in the voice of one who knew the answer and wished she didn't, "That means you gave him the Tao drug, doesn't it?" At Creed's slow, unwilling, nod she put a hand to her forehead and sighed. "Oh, for..." Creed didn't think this was the time to mention that she sounded exactly like Sven when she did that.

"You... gave... a serial... killer the Tao drug?" Sven demanded, sounding as close to blowing up as he could without actually doing so.

"Yes," Creed admitted. Now, looking back, he knew he'd made a huge mistake. Then, though, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." It had, too. Serial killers tended to be obsessive, to be focused entirely on their killings. That same focus made them very good indeed at surviving the Tao drug - just as his own obsessive focus had helped him survive. Creed tried to express that, adding, "And... I thought it made them strong. You know how I am... I mean _was_ about strength..."

"You... gave... a serial... killer the Tao drug?"

Glaring, now, Creed grumbled, "You're repeating yourself, Sven. Yes. I gave Deke Slasky the Tao drug. I gave several serial killers the Tao drug just before you caught me. I wasn't thinking clearly."

_**.oOo. **_

_Not thinking clearly or not thinking at all?_ Eve wondered to herself, but decided not to say. It was obvious from Creed's expression that he was seriously regretting that mistake and if it wasn't for the right reasons at least he knew, now, that he'd done a bad thing. Instead, she asked, "How many? What powers... and does this mean we'd be dealing with the Hoshi?"

Creed blinked. Thought about the answer. "There was Slasky, Ghoul, Scorpius... No, I think Scorpius died of it. It was during my convalescence, after I lost my left arm, so I wasn't paying a lot of attention. Doctor may have recruited others I didn't know about, too." He thought harder. "I think someone said Slasky got some sort of ice power. I'm not certain about Ghoul."

Sven took a deep breath. "I suppose, considering Resnick, I shouldn't be surprised. But... Creed..." Eve remembered Gyanza Resnick and winced inwardly. That had been her first fight with a Tao user and her inexperience had very nearly killed her. It had taken Sven's future sight with the Vision Eye to stop him and even that had been no easy task.

Dark eyes raised to look Sven in the face. "Hindsight's twenty/twenty, Sven. I was just grabbing anyone who hated Chronos. It didn't matter to me if they hated Chronos because they'd been hurt or because they were criminals who deserved what Chronos meant to do to them. It was a mistake. I understand that much."

A year ago, Eve wouldn't have been at all certain that Creed really understood. He'd still tended to regard other people as bit players in his life drama. Now, although he had trouble working out how other people felt, or ought to feel, he at least recognized that they had an existence beyond his own.

Train spun the Want Sheet idly with one finger. "You haven't said if he's still with the Hoshi," he reminded Creed, who shrugged uncertainly. "No, of course you wouldn't know." He looked very thoughtful, an expression Eve wished she'd see on his face more often and continued, "That show Sheldon faked earlier this month. Didn't he say that they'd lost a few members due to his new policies? Based on this Slasky guy's profile would he be the sort to stick around the 'Kinder and Gentler' Hoshi?"

It was unlikely and Eve said as much. Even understanding as little about being human as she did, she could be fairly certain that a man who lived for killing young women wasn't likely to want to help save them. "Or save anyone, for that matter."

A quick nod of approval from Sven made Eve feel particularly pleased with herself. "Even so," he noted, "He's still got a Tao power and we have only the slightest idea what it is. That makes this job all the more dangerous."

"I'm responsible for this. I should stop him," Creed said quietly and everyone stared at him for a moment. At their expressions he managed a weak smile. "I know. I'm saying it because it's what I ought to say, not because I feel it... properly. Mostly I don't really care. The people he's killed don't mean anything to me."

From anyone else, Creed's words would have been chilling. Knowing him, knowing how hard his new lifestyle was for him, Eve knew that behind the words were a regret as intense as anything Creed could muster. Not for the lives he'd messed up but for the fact that he had such difficulties seeing those lives as mattering. He grimaced, continuing, "I know how that sounds. I have to keep reminding myself that they _do_ matter, even if I don't feel it. I'm sorry. This is my fault."

_**.oOo. **_

Sven considered the problem for a long moment. "Creed. You made some terrible mistakes. You've hurt a lot of people. And spending our time discussing that fact isn't going to make it go away." He sighed. "Yes. You're responsible. And yes, you should do something, since Sheldon seems to have chosen to just let these bastards wander off."

The statement seemed to put a damper on everybody's mood. Eve was obviously concerned, Creed equally obviously hurting and while Train might not look it, the quick, worried glance he gave his charge told Sven a lot more that he knew his partner wanted to admit. _But what else can I say? He had reasons, yes. Not all of them good but reasons. And he had no one, absolutely no one, to keep him from making some of the most godawful choices a man can make._ Yet sympathy for the kid didn't make the results of his mistakes any less disastrous. Still, "On the other hand, you're barely ready to deal with common criminals. I don't know if you're ready to face this one."

"I don't know either," Creed admitted. "What do I do, Sven? I'm clueless. As usual." Sven pretended not to notice the hand Train put on the pale-haired man's shoulder. Ever since the cold and its aftermath, Train had been a lot more solicitous of his charge's feelings. If Sven didn't know Train better he'd have thought the younger man still felt guilty over how he'd treated Creed. _Or maybe he's growing up and he does feel guilty? Nahh._

Sven raised a hand. "Let me think about it," he said. "This is a complication, but we always run into those." Ever since he'd taken a stray cat in and made him his partner, in fact. His jobs before then might not always have been easy but they were seldom so very weird. Adding Eve and Creed to the mix had only made matters worse. _And you enjoy every minute of it, admit it,_ Sven added to himself. Even Creed belonged, these days; quite a change from his feelings about the man a year and a half ago.

So Deke Slasky's power had to do with ice. Oddly, that made sense. According to his records he put his victims in his freezer when he was done with them, preserving their appearance. If Tao talent operated the way they thought it did that meant that one's personality, or obsessions, had a lot to do with their abilities. Most likely, Deke's power would allow him to freeze his victims where they stood. Not a good talent to fight. Not a power that should be allowed to wander free, either. _But are we up to such a fight? Can we do anything? _

It was dangerous but Sven knew what had to be done. "All right. Train, Eve, pack your bags and take a plane to Lebensbaum. Get settled there and see if you can find out where Slasky is hiding out. And, for God's sake, don't try to take him unless it's a real emergency."

"What about you and Creed?" Eve asked, obviously confused. Justifiably so. Train might be able to handle Slasky on his own, or with her help, but it wasn't the sort of risk Sven liked to take.

"We'll be training. We'll catch up with you later, when we're ready to face a Tao user of unknown power and unknown skills. Two or three days, hopefully." Sven looked at Creed, whose expression was both confused and a little hurt. "Go get ready to work out, Creed. Meet me in the back field."

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

There were times when Creed longed to smack Sven in the face. He was well enough now that he no longer wanted to kill the man, even felt friendly towards him - most of the time. That friendliness, though, didn't extend to being laughed at. "What the hell's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Sven stopped chuckling, eyed Creed for a long moment and seemed to realize that his laughter was ill-timed. "I wanted to work out," he explained. "But we're not in a dojo, so why are you wearing a gi and a hakama? And where did you get that outfit, anyway?"

Creed looked down at the uniform he wore, a crisp white gi - along with the black hakama that he hadn't been able to resist - then back at Sven. "I ordered it," he answered. "That should be obvious." He shrugged. "As for this not being a dojo... we're training right? I was taught to treat any training ground like it was a dojo."

The taller man considered that. "We're training, yes, but..." He paused a moment. "You haven't needed to dress up before this."

"I never had to train with just you before. It's always been Train or Eve." Creed felt like the answer ought to have been obvious. Even though he really did like Sven better than he had, he'd known it would be harder for him to work out with the man than the other two. He had less respect for Sven's talents. More, that tiny jealous and hateful part of himself that - even now - made it easier for him to be angry at Sven than the other two might be encouraged if he didn't take every precaution to make himself understand his limitations.

For a moment Sven looked puzzled, then realization seemed to hit. "You're afraid you'll lose control of yourself if you don't wear that?" He thought about the idea for a moment, then nodded, laughter fading. "Okay. I can see your point." He straightened and bowed as formally as possible. "All right then. Let's get started."

Automatically bowing in return, Creed couldn't help hesitating. "Er..."

"What's the problem?"

"Well, you haven't said what you want me to practice? Is there some special exercise you want me to do, so I can control myself better?" The idea seemed nonsensical to Creed but he'd been unable to think why Sven would want to have him work out more.

_**.oOo. **_

Sven blinked at the pale-haired figure across from him and had to fight down laughter. He'd already pushed his luck with Creed's temper. Still, what was one to do with someone who lived the fantasy so deeply? "No," he answered. "I didn't want to work on _your_ control. You and Train and Eve have been doing fine in that respect. I need you to help me with _mine_." He took the patch off his eye and winced at the confused vision of the world that resulted.

A startled look crossed Creed's face. "Your control," he repeated slowly. "The Vision Eye?" He thought about it. "Oh. I see. If we're going after Tao users then you can't afford to be the weak link in the party."

"Well, I wouldn't have put it quite that way," Sven grumbled. "But yes. We're dealing with people with more than ordinary powers. The three of you are better equipped to handle that but I'm part of the team too and I don't intend to be left behind."

Another moment of consideration. "Don't forget your nano-machines then. You don't use them enough."

Sven had to laugh then because he sounded exactly like Eve. "No. I won't forget them either. But one thing at a time, Creed, and I've had the Eye longer. Now, put your sword at Level 2. It's harder to evade but I can see it. I'll need to be quite a bit better before I'm ready to handle an invisible blade for very long."

Once again Creed bowed, then laughing murder appeared in his hand and the fight began.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

Kyoko moved slowly between the trees, hoping to catch her Blackie unawares. Okay, so he wasn't _her_ Blackie and she knew it. Still, it was fun teasing him and she could always hope, right?

Wherever he was, it was pretty far back in the woods behind their house. If the car hadn't been there she would have thought they'd gone on a job but since it was, well obviously someone was home.

Somewhere she could hear the sound of something crashing through the woods. It sounded almost like a fight, but she'd never been near a fight that didn't have someone yelling and screaming bloody murder. Instead all she could hear, aside from the crashes, was low, hysterical giggling. It made her hurry forward. Just in time to see Creed bowl Sven over with a gigantic - and scary looking - sword. The thing had a mouth, and fangs and huge googly eyes. More, it seemed able to stretch all over the place.

_Oh no! Creed's gone mad!_ She only peripherally noted her former leader's outfit, a very formal Japanese martial uniform, before she raced between Sven and the pale-haired man, breathing fire as she came.

The force of her attack sent Creed rolling backwards and it was only belatedly that Kyoko realized just how much fire she'd used on him. She wasn't supposed to be killing people anymore. Never mind that Chronos would be unhappy with her for using her powers. _Train_ would be mad at her. _But he was trying to kill Sven! Blackie wouldn't want that either,_ Kyoko reassured herself, even as she hoped she hadn't hurt Creed too badly. Just enough to slow him down.

As the smoke cleared she found herself staring at a nightmare.

_**.oOo. **_

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Creed shouted furiously at the girl standing between him and his opponent. She had her arms spread out and a look on her face that mixed terror with stark determination. He looked down at himself, at his ruined outfit - at the charred fabric; at the slowly healing skin beneath; at the claws wrapped around his torso - and added, "Do you know how much it cost to have this made?"

From behind Kyoko, Sven laughed weakly. "You're one of the richest men in the world, Creed. You can replace it."

Glaring past the girl, ignoring her, Creed grumbled, "Yeah, but you're the one always saying I should be careful with my money. I special ordered it from Japan! It's going to be two months before I can get another."

"You mean you thought about this two months... ago..." Sven's voice trailed off as he sat up and stared at Creed with an expression almost as shocked as Kyoko's. "Creed. Did you _have_ to go to Level 3?"

It took Creed a moment to understand what Sven meant. He was too busy feeling upset over the near destruction of his gi and hakama to realize that Kyoko's attack, as damaging as it was, had sent him into overdrive, taking his Imagine Blade up Level Three and making his nano-machines work overtime to protect his body from more damage. He looked down at Kotetsu and the huge eyes attached to his upper bicep turned to look at him, blinking innocently. "Oh." He glanced up over his left shoulder, where Kotetsu's giant arm was waiting, prepared to grab Kyoko and throw her across the clearing if he wanted it to. _No wonder she looks so scared. _

With a sigh, Sven stood up. "Go back to the house and put on a track suit. It's not as good as a gi, I suppose, but it should keep your subconscious from thinking this is the real thing. Put away the Imagine Blade first. Level Two is bad enough but Level Three is just wrong."

Creed bowed, hurriedly grabbed his hakama pants before they slid off him, and rushed away.

_**.oOo. **_

As Creed disappeared into the woods, Sven turned a sour look on the girl in front of him. "You realize that you'd have killed anyone else, right?" he asked her sternly.

She looked deeply embarrassed. "I over-reacted," she admitted. "I haven't used my Tao talent for a while and when I saw him attacking you... I thought he was going to kill you." Dark eyes met his pleadingly. "_Please_ don't tell Train! I'm sorry. I didn't know you were working out. And what was that stuff on him? Some sort of nano-machine thingy?"

Sven was only puzzled for a moment. Then he remembered that Creed had only achieved Level Two after Kyoko had left the Hoshi. "It's both nano-machine and Imagine Blade," he explained. "Creed's mind ups its power the more danger he's in. And when he's at risk of dying..."

"Does it go any higher than that?" Kyoko asked, curiously and Sven couldn't help but shudder at the thought. Level Three was quite bad enough. He didn't want to - ever - see something beyond that. Kyoko seemed to realize what he was thinking for she considered the idea a moment and shuddered as well. "Forget I asked. So, what were you doing? Training Level Two to work better?"

Sven shook his head. "No, we have to go after some of Creed's old mistakes, so I needed to get my own abilities working better." He gave Kyoko a considering look. "In fact, once I'm done working on my Eye, how'd you like to help me with the nano-machines."

The look of sheer joy on Kyoko's face made Sven wonder if he was making a mistake. _Oh well. Too late now._ He hoped he wouldn't end up regretting the offer.

_**.oOoOoOo. **_

_March 28, 2005 _

"Can't I come?"

"No!" "No!" Both Sven and Creed's answer came at the same time and with very nearly the same vehemence - though Creed knew their reasons were different. Sven wouldn't want her there because she might be hurt. Creed, on the other hand, didn't want to put up with her flirting with Train. _Even though I have no right to be jealous, I hate it. _

At Kyoko's hurt expression, though, Sven softened his tone. "Three reasons. First, you don't have a sweeper's license. Second, if you get involved with this, Chronos won't like it. Third, you have classes." He stopped packing the car and turned to face the girl.

Creed couldn't help interjecting, "And, fourth, you haven't fought in two years. You'd get hurt." Admittedly, Kyoko getting herself hurt didn't bother him nearly as much as it ought to but it would have bothered Train. If there was anything that had made his Cat mad at him it was his willingness to use even young children to accomplish his goals. Creed - having once been a young child yearning to take action against those who hurt him - didn't fully understand Train's annoyance but he _did_ understand that his beloved wouldn't appreciate Kyoko tagging along.

"But if Slasky's power is ice then my power's a cinch against him," Kyoko protested. "I know you're ready, but the more help you have, the better."

"No," Sven said more firmly. "We don't know what he can do and if we take you we could get fined. You don't have an apprentice's license the way Creed does." He sighed, patted Kyoko's hand before throwing the last suitcase into the trunk. "Please, Kyoko. Don't ask again."

The girl looked disappointed, but not nearly as disappointed as she would be if she'd had her heart set on the trip. "I was just hoping to see Blackie," she admitted. "Couldn't I come just for that? Uhm... Creed, why are you growling like that?"

The low grumbling tone in his throat surprised Creed almost as much as it did Kyoko. Sven just gave him a level look, one which very effectively quieted him. "Kyoko? Could you please, please, _please_ not call Train that? It really bothers me." It wasn't easy to make the admission but he realized that - short of smacking her upside the head every time she used that particular endearment - the only way he was going to get her to stop was to ask. _And hope she agrees._

_**.oOo. **_

Kyoko blinked at Creed, puzzled at the request. What was wrong with her calling Train 'Blackie'? He _was_ the Black Cat, after all. It was just an endearment, and an obvious one at that. "Why would it bother you?" she started to ask. Then a thought hit her. "Oh... Oh, Creed. I didn't know you felt that way!"

Now it was Creed's turn to look startled. Then he smiled wryly. "It's silly, I know. And there's no chance of it ever working out," he admitted.

Kyoko nodded. He was right. A few years back, when his prettiness and his promises had attracted her, things would have been different. But a few years ago she'd been a little girl - too confused and upset by the world to really understand consequences. Now she understood that - whatever else Creed might be - he was too confused, too messed up in the head, to ever have a normal relationship with anyone. _And that's what I want, really._ "Yes, Creed. I'm so very sorry." She was both glad and sorry he'd never expressed these feelings before. "I'll try not to make you feel bad about it."

"Thank you, Kyoko. I was hoping you'd understand."

She smiled, kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I hope you find someone else, someday," she said. "But this is another reason I shouldn't come with you, isn't it? It wouldn't be fair to you." She gave Sven a quick grin and wondered why he had such a strange expression on his face. Creed too was looking odd, as if he were trying to puzzle something out. "I won't call him Blackie in front of you anymore, Creed. Don't worry!" With that she hurried off.

_**.oOo. **_

Sven watched the dark-haired girl disappear down the roadway with a mix of chagrin and amusement. Beside him, blinking confusedly, Creed asked, "Does she think I'm in love with her?"

It surprised Sven that Creed would figure it out so quickly. "I'm afraid so."

"But... why? I thought it was obvious that I was living with Train because I wanted to be with _him_. Have I done something, said something, to make her think it's her I want?"

Fighting back laughter, because he didn't want Creed to be upset, Sven shook his head. "No. You didn't. You simply misjudged her level of self-absorption." Seeing that Creed's puzzlement remained unchanged, he added, "She's not entirely selfish, Creed, but she's a pretty girl who probably gets a lot of guys chasing her skirts. She's more accustomed to that happening than having someone confess their love for someone else to her. Especially someone confessing their love for someone she's attracted to as well. Most especially when we're discussing a man in love with a man."

Creed's protest was as expected. "I don't love Train because he's a man! I love Train..."

"Because he's Train. I know that. Eve knows that. Train knows that. Anyone who knows you, knows that." Sven grimaced. "But the rest of the world would think it's because you're gay. It hasn't hit Kyoko - yet - because she doesn't have a lot of experience." He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Creed. At least, not now. If it means that she's more careful about your feelings for a bit that's about all we can ask for. She's probably not going to be happy about it when she finds out, but for now there's nothing to do but grin and bear it."

"Oh." Creed still sounded upset, but he seemed to realize it suddenly and straightened. "You're right, Sven. We need to get going. Are you sure you're ready? Do you think you've trained enough?"

Sven laughed wryly. "Between you and Kyoko, if I can't use my nice new abilities effectively against Slasky then I probably never will." He went to the driver's seat and waited for Creed to get in. "Now then, let's get this show on the road." Strapping in, Creed grinned at Sven and nodded happily. Sven grinned back, feeling rather pleased with himself, then started the engine and set off down the road. "Let's go catch ourselves a serial killer."

_**To Be Continued...**_


	66. A Sweeping We Will Go

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**A Sweeping We Will Go **_

_March 29, 2005 _

"Are you even bothering to pay attention?"

Train gazed up at the big tree that had given Lebensbaum its name. Sunlight streamed through its branches, its warmth comforting on the chill spring morning. "Nope." Before Eve could react, he glanced sideways at the girl sitting beside him and grinned. "Because we don't need to."

She took a deep breath. "Don't you think you're taking your anti-work ethic a little too far?"

"Nope." He could tell he was getting on her nerves by the way she tightened her fists. They were in a public place though and while there weren't many people, there were enough to make it impossible for her to smack him with her favored weapon without risking notice. He grinned, leaning back against the tree and watching the passersby through just barely open eyes.

"Train..."

"Princess, Sven said no moves unless necessary, right? We've got the lay of the land and we know where Slasky's staying. We can even guess at his next victim. So there's no point in going into action yet." The victim in question was interesting to Train. Slasky had apparently picked up the young tourist a day or so earlier and was wining and dining her assiduously. It was almost, but not quite, working, because the girl was playing hard to get.

Across from them, Slasky was walking with an athletic blonde woman, his expression sweetly attentive as he listened to her. Train could read her lips and was mildly amused to note that she apparently shared Creed's fondness for certain types of weaponry. It was an odd conversation, the girl waxing eloquent over the design for the swords in the movie she and Slasky had just seen, Slasky happily agreeing with her.

Of course, Slasky's preferred victims weren't just female, but females of a certain type. Like most serial killers, he had a very specific set of preferences and this girl, Silphy, fit them perfectly. Attractive and tough-minded, with total self-confidence and certainty. Slasky would worm his way into his victim's graces, then find a chance to disable them before taking his time with killing them. The girls he'd frozen in the ice chest had been kept there for days, alive, slowly freezing to death and from Sven's notes, most likely frequently visited.

"We should at least warn her..."

"And if she believes us and goes to the police we lose the sweep." Train shook his head. "By the looks of things, it's going to be a few days before he gets this one to trust him enough to let him take her. His Tao power, whatever it is, might give him an edge, but he can't do anything in public." Train waited until the pair had disappeared around a corner to rise to his feet and stretch. "Besides, we're staying on their tail. Even if he does try something we'll know."

Eve muttered something under her breath and Train gave it the attention it deserved by ignoring it. She'd been hanging around Sven too much, though, he noted to himself. She was starting to sound like him.

_.oOo._

Sven couldn't join them too soon for Eve. It'd been three days now and she was getting tired of waiting, tired of watching their quarry and the poor girl he'd targeted. Tired of Slasky's smugly pretty face and doubly tired of Train's lackadaisical approach to this sweep. This was the first time they'd ever waited for so long and she wished she knew what their senior partner was up to.

Still, little though she might like it, it occurred to her that it was a little odd that Train - usually the most impetuous member of the team - was holding back. The question burned at her mind as they made their way through the alleyway leading past the fortuneteller's house. Their quarry were in the old stone building, Slasky having convinced his would-be victim to get their fortunes told, allowing Eve to vent her curiosity. "Why _are_ you listening to Sven? You never have before."

He chuckled. "Knew you'd ask that sooner or later, Princess." He ticked reasons off on his fingers. "One, this is supposed to be a group job and Creed will pout if we don't let him in on it. Two, I'm curious to see what Sven's been up to. If we go after our icy friend now, I'll have to wait until the next job. Three, that girl looks familiar and if she's who I think she is, then she already knows what she's dealing with."

That startled Eve and she eyed Train confusedly. "What?"

"She's a Sweeper. Probably after Slasky too." Train grinned, stepping back around the corner as the door handle rattled. "Etiquette, Eve. We'll have to give her a shot at the sweep before we move in, in any event."

This wasn't the first time Eve had come across that situation and she wished - not for the first time - that she could access the Sweeper database from where they stood and see if Train was right. Shaking off the thought, she listened as the pair exited the building, chuckling over the fortune they'd been told.

She was about to follow when her phone vibrated, the caller ID showing Sven's name. _At last,_ she thought. _He's here and we can get started._ She read the text message off to Train, even as she set off for the inn where they were to meet. _And get this job over with._

Behind them something moved in the shadows, watching with amused eyes. A long clawed hand clutched the stone of the building, crumbling it to nothingness with its very touch.

_.oOoOoOo._

"Damn. I was hoping we had a clear field," Sven muttered, glaring into the monitor of his laptop. The face staring back at him was young, attractive and calmly determined. The face of an experienced Sweeper. He shoved his hand through his hair, irritated.

Train, as usual, was taking it easy on the bed behind him while Creed washed up. Eve was keeping an eye on their quarry. The fatal hour was likely to be soon and Sven - not quite willingly - had agreed to let her keep watch. He just hoped the girl wouldn't do anything foolish. She'd been hanging around Train too much.

"She's got a good rating," Train commented, telling Sven that his partner had at least _looked_ at the Sweeper data before flopping on the bed. "But I bet she doesn't know about Slasky's power - whatever it might be."

Leaning back, Sven bumped into Creed as the younger man passed by, rubbing his hair dry as he headed for the window sill. "Sorry, Creed. Tight quarters."

"Snug as a bug in a rug," Creed agreed amicably, sitting down. "Ignorance isn't bliss."

Sven agreed with that, no matter how oddly it was phrased. "She's definitely his type, though. Tough, smart and attractive." If he were a psychologist he'd be tempted to analyze the serial killer's preferred victims. Slasky himself was rather slender and slightly effeminate, suggesting that he felt threatened by women who were more 'manly' than he was. _And Doctor Jones would have a few things to say if I tried to horn in on his territory._

Bouncing around on the bed so that he was facing Sven, Train added, "She's got the Bud-K catalog memorized too. Smart of her. He might be suspicious if she showed familiarity with guns."

"Bud-K's gun and knife show, shoot a buddy, stab a friend," Creed sang and this time Sven couldn't help but snort. "When do we blow our horn?"

A good question, that. Strictly speaking, they really should be letting the first Sweeper on the case have her chance. She'd done most of the leg-work already and while some Sweepers might have horned in on the action immediately - as Creed was obliquely suggesting - Sven didn't like to. For one thing, it created hard feelings that could cause problems down the line. For another, sometimes it meant fighting the Sweeper as well as the target. Neither was desirable.

In the end, the decision was obvious, though annoying. If Slyphy took Slasky without needing help then the cost of their trip would have to be dealt with in other ways. Still, "I'll start looking for local jobs just in case. Eve's watch is over at midnight. Train, you take over for her and tomorrow we'll all keep an eye on the situation. I doubt it'll be very long before Slasky's patience wears out. I'm frankly a bit surprised he's held off as long as this. It's been about a three months since his last reported victim."

Train was pouting. "But that means I have to wait longer to find out what you and Creed were doing." Sven had refused to tell his partner anything, on the basis that surprises were good for him and Train's curiosity was up. "That's not faaairrr."

"You say that so often. One wonders what your basis for comparison is." Creed started unrolling his bedding and getting ready to sleep. Which was a good thing because Sven wanted their junior partner to be as rested as possible for the next day.

Rolling around on the bed, Train looked upside down at Sven, "But Sveeen. It's mean. You spent days and days learning a new trick and now you won't even tell us what it is!"

"Two new tricks," Sven retorted, "And you'll just have to learn a bit of patience."

Now the Black Cat rolled so that he was looking pleadingly at Creed. It was an expression that Sven fully expected to have some effect but before he could remind the other man of his promise, Creed shook his head. "The woods are lovely, dark, and deep," he answered firmly.

With a bounce that landed him on top of Creed's bedroll, Train stared into the pale-haired man's face, expression wide eyed. "Pleaaaaaase?"

Sven did his best to ignore the rough-housing that followed, contenting himself with the reflection that Creed was definitely improving in a number of ways. _He couldn't have kept the secret last year. Not from Train._ His thoughts were interrupted by a pillow striking him in the back of his head and he sighed. _Maybe I would be better off if he _had _spilled the beans. _

_.oOoOoOo._

_March 30, 2005 _

The forest outside of Lebensbaum was well kept, the trails leading in and out amid stands of trees that were nearly as old as the one large oak that stood at the center of town. It reminded Creed of the park and gardens outside Annealment House, a reminder that made him grin slightly as he recalled the day he'd fought Balder and Krantz. Yes, he'd been badly injured in that fight and yes, people had died because of him, but he still cherished the memory of the two men's final humiliation.

"Paying attention?" Train asked, noting, as he always seemed to, when Creed was drifting off and out of focus. "This is probably going to be it, you know. Your first real Sweep."

Creed did know. Slyphy had agreed to go on an early morning walk with Slasky, the first time that she'd allowed him to persuade her since the serial killer had marked her as his next victim. If there would ever be a time for his attack, it would be now. "Not as much as I should," he admitted, feeling rather glad they were going after their quarry this early in the morning. His head felt clear, almost as focused as it used to back when he was working for Chronos. He said as much.

The statement clearly worried Sven. "Is that a good thing?"

He considered his answer, pondering it so long that Train was about to poke him to get his attention. Then, "I think so," he said slowly. Creed looked down at himself, at the outfit he'd carefully chosen just for the purpose. Charcoal grey, the military sweater and fatigue pants stuffed into combat boots weren't especially stylish but they would, he hoped, help him remember that he was working. "I'm not feeling angry, the way I did then. Just ready."

Though obviously not entirely convinced, Sven accepted the statement. "All right. Keep it that way." Before Creed could answer, though, a man stepped out of the woods and onto the path ahead of them so quickly that Sven nearly walked into him. "What the..." They all stopped, staring at a face and body that looked like nothing so much as a skeleton covered in flesh. A clawed hand reached out, swiping at Sven, the fingers brushing against Sven's shoulder and somehow destroying what they touched.

Sven yelped, dodging backwards just in time to keep from being injured. Only his white jacket suffered, the shoulder turning to ash. Train and Eve both leapt away, putting distance between themselves and their attacker. At the same time Creed drew his Imagine Blade, keeping it down at Level One despite Kotetsu's desire to show itself. Memory flashed and he knew whom they were facing. "Praetor Ghoul!"

_.oOo._

It amused him, the expressions on these foolish Sweepers. They'd thought they had a clear field, chasing after Slasky, only to find that their target wasn't alone. Not for the first time Praetor congratulated himself on his decision to team up. His partner's needs were specific and comparatively minimal. Give Slasky one strong-minded wench to slowly and carefully woo into trust then betray and he was happy as a child. Praetor, on the other hand, needed more, much more, to sate his appetites. Slasky's methods and features were better advertised among the Sweeper community than his own, especially after the Tao drug had changed him. _Which makes my dear friend the perfect bait. _

These four would probably split up, two to chase after Slasky, two to take care of him. Good enough. He'd have liked a few more, but wasn't going to complain over what was essentially a free gift.

Praetor eyed the group, then frowned, puzzled. That one, the one in the grey outfit, surely that wasn't who it looked like? Pale hair, dark, puzzled looking eyes, an expression that made it appear that his brains had leaked out of his ears. _No. It couldn't be._ A brief flash of memory made him shake his head. Then again, it could be after all. The other leaders of the Hoshi had never explained what had happened to their commander but rumor had it that Diskence had gone mad, losing his ability to think and lead.

The tall man at the front of the group confirmed Praetor's conclusion. "Eve, you come with me. Creed, stay with Train." The little girl... Praetor eyed her and changed his mind. Little, yes, but developed and still developing. Not a child for all she looked it... gave the leader a sour glance, about to protest. "Don't argue, Eve. Creed works better with Train than he does with me."

Praetor moved, intending to block the girl as she ran past him. She was the weakest link and if he could take her out before the group's leader went after Slasky his partner would have that much less interference in his pleasure. To his surprise his blow was stopped by an elaborate shield that suddenly sprouted from her left arm and slammed into his shoulder. Had she been stronger the attack would have sent him flying. As it was, his arm was shaken from the force of her strike.

At the same time, however, his Tao power did what it always did and she cried out in surprise and pain. Praetor laughed, stretching his hand out towards her face. Such a pretty, doll-like, face. It wasn't going to be so pretty once his ability to rot whatever he touched got finished with it.

_.oOo._

The pain shot up her left arm and into her chest, agony as her nano-machines died in huge numbers. She was used to creating extras, used to casting off parts of her self in the form of feathers or letting the excess fade to dust when they were no longer needed. This, however, was different. This was the death of living cells that her consciousness had yet to withdraw from. This was agony.

Worse, something about Ghoul's touch had set off a chain reaction. Only a few of her nano-machines had actually touched him but others, those touching the dying ones were being infected and dying in turn. She had to think fast, had to act before she lost too much more. Determinedly, she rolled into the bushes, evading Ghoul's grasp and with brutal efficiency released the dead and dying nano-machines, as well as some of the healthy ones to keep the infection from reaching any further.

It was the moral equivalent of cutting off her left arm, a parallel to Creed's damage that the part of her mind that watched over everything she did recognized. That, though, didn't matter. She hurriedly set her remaining nano-machines to rebuilding her lost limb. It would take several minutes and use up energy she'd meant to use in the fight with Slasky but there was no choice.

"Eve!"

"I'm all right, Sven. You go!" In a way, she was happier to do things this way. Sven was always protecting her, always getting in her way. "We'll catch up." Her breath came in gasps, but she managed to speak without panting. Or at least without panting too obviously. Train and Creed could handle Ghoul while she recovered, but Slasky might kill his target soon. They couldn't wait. Sven himself would have said that much and she knew it. They both did.

There was a moment of hesitation, then the sound of Sven running.

_.oOo._

Train fired Hades, a direct shot that should have blown Praetor Ghoul's hand off. Instead the bullet seemed to melt away. Ghoul laughed, ignoring Train's attack in favor of leaping for Sven.

Somehow, though, the attack missed, as if Sven had sensed it coming and dodged. This despite the fact that he hadn't pulled off his eye-patch. Was that, Train wondered, what Sven had been training? Could he now use the Vision Eye without actually seeing with it?

The question would have to wait. Ghoul was obviously planning on going after Sven. Train wasn't sure why the serial killer cared but he wasn't going to worry about that question either. Instead he pulled out a smoke bomb and tossed it into the other man's path. Just in time, too, because he had been about to leap on Sven. Train didn't know what the man's Tao power was but he did know he didn't want it doing to Sven what it had done to Eve.

As the smoke cleared, leaving Ghoul coughing in the middle of the trail. "Eve, you doing okay?" Train asked, watching the man cautiously.

"I will be," Eve answered, her tone grim. Underneath her frustrated anger, though, Train could hear a sharp knife-edge of pain. She was, he knew, out of this fight. "Creed, don't let him touch your nano-machines. Whatever he does... affects them..."

It amused Train to note that Creed's acknowledgement was accompanied by a salute. He was taking things as seriously as only he could, yes, but Creed's love of drama meant that serious looked - from the outside - like something out of a comic book. Inside Creed's head, of course, he certainly thought that he was solemnly obeying the rules of combat. Since Eve was his senior Creed had obviously decided to regard her as a superior officer. _Explains the military look. _

Ghoul was watching them cautiously, though the confidence in his expression strongly suggested that he had no doubt of his abilities to deal with the remaining members of the team. "I want to thank you, Creed. If not for you, I wouldn't be free. If not for you I wouldn't be able to pursue my own purposes. If not for you, I wouldn't be able to consume all the lives I can!"

The serial killer turned his attention to Train, now, as Creed stiffened, face going white. "And I should thank you, too, Train Heartnet. I admit, no one told me exactly why our leader chose to leave us but now I understand. He always was obsessed with you. Do you take good care of him, Sweeper? Pet him? Clean up his messes for him?"

Train grinned. "Oh, he's self-cleaning," he answered. "Should see our house. Sparkles like a diamond." He moved slowly, considering his next attack. "Creed, help me out here. I need you to give me time."

_.oOo._

Though he had no idea what it was Train was thinking, Creed saluted and moved so that he was between Ghoul and the others. The man he'd once made a member of the Hoshi was fast, but then so was Creed. The trouble was that he couldn't touch his opponent.

Focusing his thoughts on the Imagine Blade kept Creed from paying much attention to Ghoul's taunting mockery. "What do you propose to do, Creed? Cut me in half with your Imagine Blade?"

"No," Creed answered regretfully. "I'm not allowed to do that." There were few times nowadays when he wished Train would allow him to kill but this was one of them. The Imagine Blade could have resolved this problem and - like a scalpel - have sliced out the offending cancer that Ghoul had become. _My fault. All my fault._ And that was another reason - aside from Train's wishes - why Creed couldn't allow himself to kill. Killing Ghoul was the easy way out, the very thing that Chronos did to solve its problems. He wasn't going to go down that path again, no matter what his feelings might demand.

"You know what happens when a Tao power touches another, antithetical Tao power? Or did you even bother paying attention to Shiki's training?" The sneer on Ghoul's face was confident but Creed wasn't sure if the man was bluffing. "My ability sucks the very life from what it touches, just as your Blade is _your_ life-force, extended from your body. Imagine what will happen if it touches me, or my aura." As he spoke his body began to glow, a fierce raging aura that flickered hungrily around the man.

_Damn._ Creed didn't remember Shiki ever mentioning something of this sort but it would make sense. He circled slightly, examining Ghoul's movements, considering his options. Should he test the theory or try some other tack?

_.oOo._

Train ignored the conversation between the two men in favor of drawing his own power together. That was the trouble with the Rail-Gun and one of the reasons he rarely used it. The blast of energy he was able to shoot out, using Hades as its focus, took time to create.

Creed was rushing the man, arm swinging as he wielded the Imagine Blade. Rather to Train's surprise, though, he wasn't aiming for the enemy. Was he having trouble keeping the blade in its controlled state that blunted its edge or was there another reason. Train didn't bother analyzing, though, focusing himself.

Trees were crashing down on Ghoul, only to be consumed by the aura surrounding the man. Ghoul was laughing, standing in the middle of the path and not bothering to dodge Creed's attacks. _Try this on for size,_ Train thought, firing the Rail-Gun.

Energy swirled around Train's hands, a whirlwind almost out of control. He held it, though, channeling the power through Hades and out his beloved weapon's barrel. A sphere of white light formed at the end of the weapon, casting stark black shadows around them.

Then the energy blast exploded outwards, striking Ghoul in the chest and sending him flying. "Yeah!" Train felt exultant, even as the energy drain made him stagger. _Damn it. Too much, too fast._

For a moment it seemed the attack had worked. Then, very slowly, the aura around him glowing all the brighter, Ghoul rose to his feet. Blood was streaming down his chin but his smile was unchanged. No, if anything it was all the more smug and pleased with itself. "Don't you listen, Black Cat? I just told your friend here that any energy that touches me gets absorbed."

Cocking his head, a trifle puzzled by the failure of his attack, Train shrugged. "Eh? Were you two talking?"

_.oOo._

There were moments when Eve truly wished she could kick Train and this was one of them. He never, ever, listened. Never paid attention to important details. An enemy went so far as to outright _tell_ them the nature of his ability and what did Train do but the very thing that would make him stronger. It would have been different if Ghoul had been lying but it was obvious that the man wasn't.

Rising to her feet, shaky and trembling from the effort to restore herself, Eve grabbed Train by the arm. "Don't do that again!"

Again Train shrugged. "I got three more tries," he pointed out, reminding her that his Rail-Gun could only be used so many times in one day. Right in front of Ghoul, too. Damn the man for his ever present over-confidence and outright stupidity. If it weren't for his infernal good luck Train Heartnet would have died years ago.

"You want to get us killed?" Eve demanded. She felt too shaky, too weak to fight but maybe she could use her brains to solve the problem. It was damned sure that Train wasn't going to. And as for Creed, he was still launching an attack that had already proved futile, cutting down trees and dropping them on Ghoul, nearly but never quite hitting the target, even as the wood melted into nothingness. "Your attack was useless! No, worse than useless. You just made him stronger!"

For a moment Train eyed the fighters. Ghoul dodging the attacks rapidly, Creed just as quickly adjusting his position and tearing up the landscape. "I dunno. Why is he running around like a chicken with his head cut off if he's stronger? He was standing still earlier."

It hit Eve then. Yes, Train's attack had visibly enlarged and strengthened Ghoul's aura but at the same time it had injured the man. Flung yards away from the spot where he'd been standing, his aura hadn't been fast enough to prevent his physical form from being damaged. Moreover, looking at Ghoul more closely, she could see him favoring his right side, one hand pressed against his ribs. There was a circular pattern in his black body suit that told her that the Rail-Gun had damaged him as well.

"Of course! Creed, go to Level Three!"

_.oOo._

That made Creed stop and turn to stare at Eve, forcing him to quickly dodge Ghoul's counter-attack. "What?" Had she gone mad? No one wanted him to go to Level Three. Besides, he couldn't see any reason why Level Three would be better in dealing with Ghoul than Level One was. The additions to Kotetsu's power didn't change the fact that it was still his life force. Worse, it was his life-force combined with his nano-machines and that meant it was still vulnerable. _Maybe more so. _

"Just do it," she ordered impatiently and her tone did the trick. Creed had taught himself to obey his three senior partners. If Train had countermanded her order, of course, then he would have listened to his Cat first but Train wasn't saying anything.

With a sigh, Creed leaped backwards, twisting his thoughts in that particular way that was needed to shift the Imagine Blade to the highest level that he had - so far - attained. By the time his somersault had ended his third arm was striking the dirt and flinging him yards further than he would have gone otherwise.

Now he straightened, looking at Ghoul and waiting for Eve to tell him what to do next. His former fellow Hoshi was staring back at him with an expression of sheer disbelief. It was an expression he'd seen on a number of other faces and considering that his right arm was now a massive blade with eyes and that a huge secondary left arm arched over his head, he couldn't quite blame Ghoul for being taken aback.

_I think I like that part best of all._ Third Level hurt a bit. Kotetsu had to dig himself into Creed's back in order to support himself, a painful process that always left him bleeding. Still, the effect he had on his enemy was more than enough to satisfy Creed's love of drama.

Eve was beside him now, her body trembling as she put her hand on Creed's right shoulder, avoiding Kotetsu's spikes. "Creed. Listen close. Don't attack him directly. Use the Blade to send hit the ground below him." Her voice was soft in his ear, shaking with effort. "Send him flying, as fast and as high as you can." He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the enemy was more important, but he nodded.

Satisfied, Eve dropped back, letting Creed attack.

_.oOo._

_This is unexpected,_ Praetor thought, staring at his enemy. Was he not still certain that the nature of his power would badly damage his former leader he would have been more than just taken aback. Laughing horror was clutched around Creed's body, a horror that Praetor admired for its sheer excess even as he wondered what, exactly, it could do.

Creed was running towards him, as though he planned on a direct attack. Unnerved and wary of a weapon that he had no information on, Praetor leapt backwards. To his amusement, Creed's strike ended with the pale-haired man driving the over-sized sword that covered his right arm straight into the dirt below the spot where he'd been standing. The surprised look on Creed's face was more than satisfactory and when it became obvious that the force of the blow had trapped the man, Praetor rushed forward, intending to press his claws into Creed's chest.

Before he could, though, Creed's third arm stretched out, driving itself into the dirt as well. Now Praetor realized his danger. Creed had _intended_ this, had meant for his weaponry to appear trapped. As Creed's body jerked upright the blade and the third hand pulled upwards, flinging the path beneath Praetor upwards and tossing him high into the air.

Spinning around, struggling to get himself under control, Praetor found himself striking the ground hard. Breath knocked out of him, he staggered to his feet, just in time to see Creed pick up a boulder with his third hand and fling it.

In full control of his powers, Praetor could have stopped the attack, could have rotted the stone out of existence fast enough to save himself. His aura was - after all - strengthened by the Black Cat's attack on him earlier. He wasn't in full control, however, wasn't in control at all. He was half-stunned as he rose to his feet, his sight whirling and his thoughts too confused to do anything but think, _Oh shit..._

Then the boulder hit him and thinking was no longer possible.

_To Be Continued..._


	67. Ice, Ice Baby Ice

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

**_Ice, Ice Baby Ice _**

**_March 30, 2005 _**

Sven cursed as he ran, torn between the need to protect his partners and the knowledge that someone else needed his help. As far as he knew, Sylphy had no idea what she was dealing with. He forced back the image of Eve, her arm shattering into nothing under Praetor Ghoul's touch. She'd been right to tell him to go, but a part of him, the protective part that still saw her as the little girl he and Train had taken in, hated the decision.

Still, he had to trust the team. Had to trust _her_. It was becoming clear with every job that she wasn't a child. She'd been trained to fight from the first, been trained to kill, and he'd shouldn't forget that. More importantly, she was learning and learning fast, her skills growing every day. _Besides, both Train and Creed are there. They won't let Ghoul touch her again._

A sense of danger slowed Sven down, made him move more quietly. His training with Creed had been effective, making it possible for him to use a bit of his eye's ability without taking off the patch. Its full power still needed sight but that could wait.

Ahead, in a clearing, came the sound of laughter. Slasky's laughter, supremely confident and entirely too pleased with itself. "Did you think you had me fooled? Stupid Sweeper. You walked right into our trap."

"You... bastard... what did you _do_ to me?" The other voice was female, strained and angry. If there was fear beneath the rage it was well hidden. _He has her. _

Caution was called for now and Sven slowed even more. Slasky liked to take his time with a kill and it wouldn't do to rush in and force the man's hand. Instead he crept closer, peering through the trees.

At the center of the clearing stood two figures. Slasky, dressed in a light ski jacket and pants, his pale blonde hair shining in the sunlight. The other, Sylphy, stood with her arm outstretched, a gun in her hand aimed ahead of her. Her body gleamed, encased as it was in a layer of ice that made her look like a sculpture. In the chill morning air there was no way that it would melt before the cold finally killed her.

_Time to move out,_ Sven thought and stepped into the clearing.

_.oOoOoOo._

"What if he wakes up before we get him there?" Creed's tone was plaintive but Train knew his partner's nerves weren't just out of worry over the chance that Ghoul would wake up any time soon. As hard as Creed had hit him, Ghoul would be lucky if he woke up in a week. Much harder and the man wouldn't be waking at all. _Good thing we made Creed practice controlling his blows. _

No, truth to tell, Creed just didn't want to go into the Sweeper office. Yes, he was no longer a wanted man, was even on the "Do Not Sweep" list. Yet he was still a former criminal with a reputation for violence and danger that had to be known to any Sweeper worth their salt.

Still, "Sven needs help. Eve can't do it and you're exhausted from using Level Three." Train could see that clearly. Creed seldom used that skill and the lack of practice was telling on him. He was shaking, face pale and damp with sweat. "If you hurry you might be back in time to help."

Eve gave Train a sour look. "No we won't and you know it." She sighed, leaning over and taking several deep breaths. Her arm had recovered its shape but it was obvious that she had no hope of keeping up in a fight. "You just want to see Sven's new power."

Train whistled and tried to look innocent. There _was_ that too. But, "Even if I do, do _you_ think Creed should go after Slasky right now? It's damn certain you can't." The look on Eve's face mixed annoyance with grudging acceptance and he smiled at her. "Don't worry, Princess. You'll get a chance to see it in action sooner or later."

"It's not fair," she grumbled, getting up slowly while Creed tossed Ghoul over his shoulder and smiled at her. "And don't you dare quote Labyrinth at me, Creed. I know he's right. I just don't have to like it."

Train left the two arguing genially about what Creed had been about to say.

_.oOoOoOo. _

Deke Slasky circled around his victim as she cursed through the layer of ice covering her body. He was feeling pleased with himself but at the same time wary. Slyphy didn't have any special abilities to make her a difficulty. Nor did she have a partner to interfere. However, if Ghoul was right about the other team that had been watching him, he was likely to be in a fight any minute now. According to Ghoul, that Sweeper team was a group of three, one of whom was the infamous Black Cat.

_It'll be easy enough for Ghoul to handle the kid._ If their analysis of the Sweepers' characters were right, it'd be Heartnet who'd break off from the team and Volfeed - overprotective to the extreme - who'd stay to guard the little girl he'd been fool enough to make a junior partner. It was a bit of a pity, really. The little girl wasn't Deke's preferred type but if she was trying to be a Sweeper then it was clear that she was headed that way. Another female with delusions of strength who thought she could hold her own in a man's world.

Deke's thoughts were interrupted by a movement among the trees. _Well, Ghoul was wrong about that much. Oh well._ If anything, Sven Volfeed should be easier to handle than the Black Cat. Heartnet's lightning fast reflexes and rumored good luck were such that Deke hadn't really been looking forward to a fight with him. Oh, Deke's powers were more than a man armed with just a gun could handle but Deke knew from Creed Diskence that Train Heartnet wasn't merely a talented gunman.

Pretending not to notice Volfeed, Deke eyed Slyphy. She looked lovely this way, all shining white and blue, the ice encasing her reflecting the sunlight and creating shards of rainbow all around her. Beneath the ice he could see her face, the way her skin was beginning to turn blue in the cold. It was too bad Ghoul hadn't been able to take care of all three of the other Sweepers. Deke would have preferred to spend the rest of Sylphy's very short life watching her slowly freeze.

Volfeed moved then, diving into the clearing, rolling across the grass and straight for the thin layer of ice with which Deke had covered the ground, camouflaged by the grass that stuck up through the ice. Deke turned, smiling, ready to watch the fun when the Sweeper hit that ice and slid.

_.oOo._

Sven struck the ground and instinctively threw himself straight up in the air. He spun, landing feet first as hard as he could and while he wasn't immediately sure why his new skill had demanded he do so, he quickly found out. Beneath him, ice shattered, crushed by the force of his landing. If he'd followed his initial intentions he'd be flat on his back and in a very vulnerable position.

_Good. It's working._ Sven had been pretty certain that the training he'd done with Creed would offset his lack of Tao power but it was good to have confirmation. He looked up at Slasky, who didn't appear very happy that his trap had failed.

The trap was interesting in and of itself, suggesting that the former Hoshi member had been expecting to be attacked. Sven pulled his eye patch off quickly, focusing his freshly honed talent and now he could see that Slasky had covered more than just the ground with that thin layer of ice. There was more on the trees around them, making the entire clearing a slick and dangerous place for acrobatics and fighting.

Slasky sneered, one hand reaching out to caress the ice that contained his other captive. "You would have been smarter to send Heartnet," he said, voice thin and sharp. "He might have posed a danger to me. You, on the other hand, have nothing to protect you from my power." He waved a hand around the clearing. "Go ahead. Come for me. You might have avoided slipping on the ice just now, but I can promise you you'll fall, sooner or later. There's no place safe for you to fight."

That told Sven that Slasky's Tao power made it possible for the serial killer to walk on the ice he created without danger to himself. Well enough, Sven would have to make his own path. He didn't bother answering Slasky. Instead he adjusted a switch on his briefcase and swung it around, bullets flying and shattering the ice.

With a howl of rage, Slasky's hand moved, flinging ice in Sven's direction. "Do you think that's going to save you?"

It might not have saved Sven but it certainly gave him room to work, which was the point. His Eye and his body reacted in perfect unison, allowing him to step out of the way of the shards of ice aimed his way. Time slowed to a crawl and he moved to a new position. Before he did anything else he had to get Sylphy free of the ice.

_.oOo._

The other Sweeper was in front of her so suddenly that - if she could have moved - Sylphy would have thrown herself backwards. Imprisoned in the ice, the best she could do was jerk slightly and gasp. His movements were strange, disjointed, as if he were stepping in and out of reality. First she saw him lift his briefcase towards her, then he was gone from that position and standing a foot to the side, easily evading a spear of ice.

There was a warmth on her, a short burst of heat from a tongue of flame that came from the something attached to the man's briefcase. Then he was moving again and more heat touched her lightly and was gone. Again and again the heat came, then disappeared, so quickly that it seemed useless. Yet, in the end, it was enough. She could feel the ice weaken, so that - chilled and exhausted though she was - a twist of the waist, a flex of the shoulder, shattered her prison.

As she fell to the ground she forced herself to roll sideways and out of the way. It rankled but she had no strength left to fight. Not when Slasky had that unexpected ability he'd called Tao. She lay sprawled against a tree and watched as the stranger flickered in and out of sight. Apparently Slasky wasn't the only one with special skills.

The man was good, she noted to herself. Even without that strangely enhanced speed he moved like a pro. Not much to look at, long, rangy and scruffy, but appearances didn't really matter. Skill did and this stranger's movements spoke of years of practice. She felt like she ought to recognize him and was annoyed that she couldn't.

Slasky cursed, his glance at her promising punishment if he won, an expression that might have worried her more if it weren't for the fact that her would-be target was obviously outmatched. Somewhere in the time between his escape from prison and now the serial killer had learned to fight, but he was dependent on his ice, throwing it like spears that ought to have impaled their target like a butterfly on a board. Against someone who could step out of the way so very quickly, so very easily, the ability was useless.

_That other attack, the one he used on me, though. Can this man evade it?_ She tried to speak, wanting to warn her rescuer that he was still in danger. But her throat was raw, her voice hoarse. She could barely manage to breath properly, much less speak.

_.oOo._

Deke sneered at his opponent, even though he didn't feel nearly so smug as he wanted Volfeed to believe. How could anyone move so damned fast? He'd heard the Sweeper was good, but this went further than good into the realm of the supernatural. If he didn't know better he would have thought the man had a Tao power.

_Very well, then. I didn't want to use this again so soon, but if I have to..._ Slasky dodged the bullets intended to stun him and drew his Tao together. The attack he'd used on Sylphy took quite a bit of strength but it couldn't be dodged nearly so easily as his spears of ice could be. As he did so a thought occurred to him and he smiled slightly. He knew men of Volfeed's type, knew they believed in a code of so-called chivalry that meant they would protect someone weaker than themselves. Such a code could be used as a weapon.

Turning slightly, he aimed at Sylphy. The girl was helpless, too exhausted and hurt from the first time he'd frozen her. She had no hope whatsoever of dodging out of the way. "You or her, Volfeed. Which shall it be? More ice will kill her, you know. Won't that be nice?"

The man moved, that weird jerky step that took him yards away from his last position. Now he was between Deke and the girl. _Just where I need you to be._ Deke grinned, releasing the power and turning the air around Volfeed to ice.

The fog swirled around the Sweeper for a moment or so, then settled in, covering Volfeed in an inch thick layer of ice. No one, Slasky knew, could muscle their way out of that state and he smiled, satisfied with himself.

A sound drew Deke's attention off to one side and he saw a man running towards him. Heartnet, his gun drawn and clearly ready to fight. Except the ice Volfeed hadn't damaged caused the Black Cat to slip and go sliding. In a way, though, it was lucky for the Sweeper because Deke's ice spear would have gotten him otherwise.

As Heartnet pulled himself upright, sputtering, Deke prepared to throw more projectiles. The Black Cat might have the devil's own luck but he surely wasn't capable of whatever strange skill Volfeed had displayed. He raised his hands, only to swing around at the sound of shattering ice.

" Inconceivable... that's just inconceivable."

_.oOo._

Sven couldn't help it. "I don't think that word means what you think it means." Across the clearing, Train laughed and he grinned back at his partner. _All right. Maybe I _have_ been hanging around Creed too long._ Still, Princess Bride was one of the family favorites and the opportunity was too tempting to ignore. He brushed the remains of the nano-machines he'd created around his body off his hands and shook them out of his shirt. _Creed's going to have a few things to say about the next load of laundry,_ he thought.

Still, those nano-machines had just saved his life. Unlike Creed and Eve, Sven couldn't form weaponry or change the shape of whatever body parts the things had replaced. He could, however, form a thick armor around himself that had given him the space he needed to break the ice Slasky had covered him with.

Train spun on the ice, acting like a kid on skates and Slasky turned, startled by the Black Cat's casual behavior. "What the hell..." he started to say but Sven was already moving, his briefcase rising in the air. One last time he used his Eye to slow time to a crawl around him, running at the murderer and, just as Slasky turned to look back at him, slammed the thing into the side of Slasky's head.

For a moment that seemed forever to Sven's enhanced senses, Slasky stared at him, blue eyes wide behind his goggles. Then he collapsed into a heap as time returned to normal.

_Which is a good thing,_ Sven thought, falling to his knees himself. He was stronger than he had been before and far better at using his Eye and the nano-machines that fate had given him but it was going to take some time before he'd have the stamina to do so for anything but a fairly short fight. _Not to mention I like short fights better than long, drawn out ones._

"You okay?"

Looking up at Train, Sven grinned. "Yeah. Not too bad. Going to have to thank Creed for his help training me, though. I would have been toast without our training session."

A chuckle. "Wouldn't ice-cream be more appropriate?" As Sven agreed, Train knelt beside Slasky and checked him over. "I'll get him back if you can help Sylphy." Between the two of them they should be able to get everyone back to town without too much trouble. Hopefully.

_.oOoOoOo._

Creed sat uncomfortably in the Sweeper offices and tried to ignore the stares aimed his way. It wasn't, he knew, his ripped clothing or disheveled appearance that was drawing the attention. No, it was the fact that his face was still prominently displayed on the wall, on a Sweeper poster with the words "Do Not Sweep" under his name. It hadn't been that long ago that those words had been a set of very impressive numbers.

Apparently, though, he wasn't all that impressive himself. Of course, he _knew_ that and once had done everything he could to _make_ himself be so. Now he was just a skinny, bewildered looking kid who looked like he'd been through a threshing mill. _Which isn't to far off from the truth._ He was feeling the effects of his fight with Ghoul, his muscles felt like overly stretched rubber bands and his head ached from the effort to keep himself under control even at Level Three.

"_You're Creed Diskence? YOU were worth a billion dollars?_" The tone of disbelief came from a scarred dark-haired Sweeper who had just finished getting paid. He looked rather like something out of a Marilyn Manson video, complete with piercings and eye-makeup. His companion, red-haired and quite a bit larger, was grinning slightly behind him, clearly both felt entirely too confident for words.

Creed shrugged. "That was then. This is now. Now I'm only worth what I'm paid." He glanced over at the desk, where Eve was explaining the situation to the tall, gawky blonde clerk and clearly leaving the young man extremely confused. "Which should be about ten thousand if they believe my partner."

His honesty was probably a mistake. The two men looked at Eve, then him and finally sniggered. Then the red-haired man dragged a chair over, turned it backwards and sat, leaning on its back with a grin. "You know, we were going to pay you a visit a while back - you and the Hoshi - but you stood us up. That's really hurtful, Creed. I was looking forward to our first date."

If Creed hadn't been still a bit buzzed on the adrenaline from his fight with Praetor Ghoul he might have taken the Sweeper's statement literally. Fortunately he managed to catch himself before he said something stupid. "You were in the same group as Kevin and River? The ones Green hired?" He felt proud of himself for remembering River's frequent diatribe over the wasted journey to Creed's island hideout and even prouder of the way he kept his tone amused and unconcerned. He could tell from the man's posture that he was hoping for a reason to fight.

A sneer. "So you found out and ran away? Can't blame you." The man leaned forward, breath smelling of beer and sausages with sauerkraut. A good meal the first time around, no doubt, but not particularly pleasant at this point. "We'd have taken your little Hoshi No Shito base apart."

Now Creed absolutely couldn't help himself. "I doubt that," he answered genially. "If anything, I don't think you'd have made it to land, much less the mansion. Lucky for you that Train caught me first, now isn't it?" He smiled, even while a part of his mind scolded the rest for its inability to control the mouth attached to it. _Stupid. I don't want to fight this man._ "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

For a moment Creed was sure he was about to be attacked. Then the dark-haired man sniggered. At Creed's startled, puzzled, expression he said, "Easy to talk big when you know we can't touch you."

"But I'm sitting right here," Creed answered, still confused. "You just have to reach ou... Oh! I'm sorry. You mean you can't Sweep me." They were giving him the 'Are you for real?' look now. Not that he could blame them and he apologized again. "Sorry. If confusion is the first step to knowledge, I must be a genius."

The larger of the two men gave him a long, considering look. "We can't _sweep_ him, Racdol. But is there anything that says we can't engage in a friendly bit of training practice, outside?"

Somehow the look on Racdol's face was familiar and Creed wasn't surprised when he rolled his eyes, shook his head and answered with over-done patience, "Galum, we're already operating at a loss after that last disaster. We don't need a fine on top of the hospital fees because you're feeling playful." He sounded exactly like Sven and Creed had to fight the urge to chuckle.

Instead of pointing out the resemblance to his senior partner, Creed shook his head. "Besides, I'm in no state for a fight. Not after sweeping Ghoul." Even as he spoke it occurred to him he was making a mistake. The only people who knew that Praetor Ghoul had been a member of the Hoshi and had received the Tao drug were members of the Hoshi and his team. These two were likely to consider his excuse less than believable.

Except the Sweepers were staring at him with startled expressions. Then the one called Galum turned, looked at the man being carried off towards the cells, then at Eve and Creed. "Just the two of you? Took down that monster? Okay, I'm officially impressed."

Racdol grimaced. "Yeah. We barely got away from him. How the hell'd you do it? That... Tao, was it?... of his was nasty stuff." He grabbed a chair and sat in front of Creed. "C'mon, Diskence. Give. How'd you do it?"

Creed took a deep breath, not at all sure where to start.

_.oOoOoOo._

Train eyed the group seated at the table in the local tavern with a feeling of amusement. He supposed it was inevitable that the other Sweepers, faced with someone who had once been one of the most valuable and dangerous targets on the lists, would want to find out more about him. Although the clerk had said there'd only been two with Creed and Eve when they'd left the offices, there were nearly a dozen now, all sitting at a large table and plying Creed with wine and Eve with ice-tea.

If nothing else, Creed was obviously amusing the Sweepers. This was where Chronos' training had actually had a good effect. As long as Creed was in a situation where elegant manners and gentlemanly courtesy was normal he could function among strangers. Eve was watching him with an expression that she was taking notes, a fact that Train found amusing. He wondered if she was learning by example, or by _bad_ example.

As far as the others went, it helped too that the weird things Creed said gave the impression of someone trying to make lame jokes, rather than an honest effort to communicate. Like right now, when Creed was explaining how he'd taken Praetor Ghoul down. "Slowly I turned, step by step... and then I hit him with Niagara Falls... I mean a boulder!"

One of the Sweepers laughed. "So, which Stooge are you? Larry, Moe or Curly?" She was an older Sweeper, which probably explained how she recognized the old vaudeville routine. Train only knew it because Creed had recently acquired an extensive collection - an early birthday present for Sven. One that had added significantly to Creed's own repertoire of goofy quotes.

Before things could descend into further confusion, Train moved closer. "None of the above." He put a hand on Creed's shoulder and grinned down at his friend's happy expression. "Gracie Allen, maybe, but not a Stooge." Creed looked mildly surprised at Train's being able to make the connection and Train added, "And now it's time to go, kids. Say goodbye, Creed."

Without hesitation Creed told the others, "Goodbye, Creed."

_.oOoOoOo._

Sven turned down a narrow country road and checked the map. This job had been more lucrative than he'd hoped, meaning that they had some breathing space before they needed to do another Sweep. They had time to drop back home and check in with Annette for more information.

Looking into the mirror he grinned slightly. The kids were both asleep, Eve slumped against one door and Creed against the other. Creed snored slightly, making a soft, burbling, noise before muttering something and twisting around into another position, a smugly happy smile on his face. "They did good," he commented to Train. "Aside, maybe, from Creed's little news conference with those Sweepers."

"That wasn't so bad," Train answered, looking half-asleep himself. "I listened to it and he was in full form by the time he explained _how_ he'd taken Ghoul down. If I hadn't been there at the fight to see what he was talking about I'd never figure him out." He paused, added, "Not that I can figure him out most of the time."

Forbearing from saying that that clearly wasn't true, Sven simply shrugged. "Well, I hope no one understood if he said anything about the nano-machines or his Tao. The less anyone knows about what we can do, the better."

Train yawned, obviously disinterested and Sven continued, "I'm just hoping they don't have problems keeping Ghoul under control. Slasky's ice power can probably be neutralized somehow but _how_ do you keep someone with the power to rot anything he touches in prison?"

Another yawn and Sven shot a sour look at his partner before returning his eyes to the road. Before he could comment, though, Train spoke. "He's Sephiria's problem now." At Sven's puzzled glance, the Black Cat continued, "I called her. Figured that she might have some use for them."

Now Sven was really startled. Train had always wanted Chronos to stay out of his business, putting up with the constant surveillance only for Creed's sake. What had changed his mind, Sven wondered and couldn't help but ask - even though he fully expected to get one of Train's patented deflections of subject.

Instead, Train sighed. "Can't ask the Hoshi to do something about them," he answered. "For one thing, they let those two leave their group without trouble, so they can't care much what Ghoul and Slasky ended up doing. Chronos won't learn anything about Sheldon's current plans from them but they're the only ones who _might_ be able to control something like Ghoul. And I _don't_ want him to come looking for us when he gets out. Creed did him a lot of damage and I think he's the sort to want to get back at people."

Sven opened his mouth. Shut it. Finally, "Yeah," he agreed. "I guess you're right. I just hope you're right about Chronos caring about a pair of Taoists who aren't part of the Hoshi anymore. I mean, it's not like having Tao - in and of itself - should be something that matters." He shrugged the thought off as he drove. There were other things to worry about. Such as whether the route he'd chosen was really a shortcut. There was no use borrowing trouble. _Besides, Sephiria's people may not be very good people - mostly - but they _do_ know what they're doing. There should be no problem with their getting those two to a safe prison._

To Be Continued...


	68. Intermezzo 17: Chronos & Hoshi

The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Interlude: Chronos & Hoshi**_

_**March 30, 2005**_

Balder eyed the little Sweeper office balefully before stalking up to the door and entering, Krantz and their men close behind. The place was a dump. Small, furnished in an old-fashioned style, with antique bookshelves against one wall, an equally ancient desk, and seats whose plush velveteen covers had seen better days. Oh, granted it was clean and not unattractive but it looked like someone was still living in the late 19th century, instead of the early 21st.

An awkwardly tall, skinny blonde man was sitting behind the desk and when Balder and Krantz entered, he stiffened slightly, eyeing them with an expression that mixed annoyance with nervous wariness. "Can I help you?"

"The two prisoners you're holding. The ones who were captured this morning. Give them to us."

Oddly, the man appeared unsurprised at the request. "All right. Take them. Go." His response was unusual. The Sweeper Alliance had certain rules, after all, and total strangers taking their prisoners were supposed to be forbidden. "I was warned that you were coming," the man continued. "I have the paperwork completed."

Warned? Oh, of course. "Heartnet told you." That sort of explained it. Apparently the Black Cat hadn't wanted any more trouble than was absolutely necessary. Too bad. Balder had sort of been looking forward to 'explaining' to the Sweepers just how little their rules mattered to Chronos. "Good enough. Where are they?"

"Would you show them the way?" The young man turned towards the corner and Balder was startled to realize a small, rather effeminate, young man was standing in the shadows. There was something strange about his eyes but Balder couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. An almost beatific smile crossed the pale features as the young man bowed and unlocked a wooden door in the wall behind him. "Down this hall," he said, pointing. The door at the very end leads into the cells. I'm afraid I'm not nearly strong enough to help you with them, however."

"Not a problem. We brought our own." Balder headed down the hallway, gesturing for his men to come and help. The sooner he got out of this creepy little town, the happier he'd be.

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

Two figures watched as the group of men dressed in black business suits made their way out of town, their captives carried - with no particular gentleness - at the center. Balder was leading and Krantz bringing up the rear, both on watch for interference.

"Chronos mooks are all the same, aren't they," the smaller man muttered. "Do you think they're cloned?"

A soft sigh from the figure half hidden in the shadows, draped in a dark cloak. "You know I can't focus that far away, Tse-rao." His voice was light and breathy, almost a whisper. "Shall we move?"

"Not yet, Keegan. Our employer was very specific. No trouble allowed in Lebensbaum." The smaller man gazed consideringly at the party. Somewhere about half a mile away was a helicopter waiting for the Chronos agents and he and his partner would have to complete their mission before their targets reached it. On the other hand, they were still in town and their orders were to avoid being noticed at all costs. "Let them get further, first. Which one do you want?"

"I don't like the idea of getting tangled up in Number Eight's weapon. I'll take the blind man," Keegan answered after a moment's thought. "And make one crack about needing some No More Tears shampoo and I swear I'll throttle you. Again."

"Oooo. Would you?" Tse-rao's jibe got the reaction it deserved, or rather the total lack of reaction it deserved. Even so, he could tell he'd scored at least a half-point, despite the mask that hid the lower part of his companion's face. _Let's see. That makes it... 1401. Not bad for one day and we still have a while to go before midnight._

They moved quietly after the group, waiting until the wall around the city was hidden by the trees. To Tse-rao's amusement, it was almost the same area where the Black Cat and his partners had captured the former Hoshi members now being carried off by Chronos. "Go!" he ordered, moving in rapidly. They were close enough that Keegan wouldn't need help finding his target.

Landing in the middle of the path, Tse-rao grinned up at Balder. Disguised as a skinny, small and very plain little girl that he'd seen in town, he knew he presented an innocuous image. _Though I doubt Balder will see it that way._

Chronos' Number Eight stared blankly for a moment. "Little girl, what do you think you're doing?" He let the ball and chain he carried dangle from his hands, apparently negligently. Tse-rao knew better, though, could see that the Chronos Number was ready for trouble. "You don't think I'll let you live just because you _look_ like a child."

Grinning, Tse-rao gazed up at his opponent, then pulled off his disguise, revealing himself properly. Taller now, with a sweep of long black hair and slanted black eyes, his face could only elicit one reaction. "Xiao-li?"

"Sorry, Number Eight. I'm afraid not. If anything, the dear boy would be very annoyed that you mistook me for him." A staff appeared in his hand and he used it to launch himself - pole vault style - at the other man, his foot striking Balder in the middle of the chest. He wouldn't have more than a few seconds before the Chronos number got his bearings and he meant to make good use of it.

_**.oOo.**_

Krantz was startled when he walked into something that felt like cobweb. Ahead of him he could 'see' Balder dealing with whatever stranger it had been who'd approached his partner, but that was a problem he had no doubt Balder could handle.

This odd, creepy, feeling though, was something else entirely. Strands of something soft and silky were sliding down over him, so light and fragile that they seemed harmless. Easily brushed away, they should not have given him quite so much of the creeps as they were.

Instinct made Krantz move, even though he could see nothing attacking him. His knife slashed through the threads, eliciting a cry of pain from somewhere above him. Then, startlingly, he found himself wrapped up tightly in a smooth, flat, cord that appeared to have been braided from silk thread.

A voice whispered in his ear. "I'm sure it pleases you to know that that hurt." Then the cord tugged him off his feet and sent him flying, only to be jerked to a halt a moment later. He barely maintained his hold on his knife, for the cord wrapped around his wrist was cutting off the circulation. Still, that gave him something to aim for and he twisted the blade so that it sliced the cord away. Once again something gasped.

The strands wrapped around his wrist seemed to melt away into nothing as he rose to his feet, trying to find his target. Whomever, _whatever_, it was seemed non-existent, as if he were formed from thin air. _No. There's something there._ The sensors in his helmet were 'showing' him a faint warmth amid the other, much warmer, signatures of his team. He was about to move at it, to attempt to engage, when the warmth dissipated, spreading out so thin that he would have thought it had disappeared.

Then it was wrapped around him entirely, covering his face and holding him so tightly that he could do nothing but slowly suffocate. For a moment he could hear his team shouting his name, hear them yelling to "Stop that thing," "Can't hit it without hitting him!" Then even that sound was muffled as his attacker tightened its embrace.

Then he could hear and feel nothing at all.

_**.oOo.**_

Balder was aware that something had taken Krantz down with alarming speed. _Damn these Taoists anyway._ It was one thing to fight normal humans, or even the highly trained forces of the Rosenkaveliers. The Taoists had such a wide range of powers and such unexpected skills that it could take several moments to work out a plan of attack. Sometimes those few minutes were enough. Other times they weren't.

His own opponent wasn't the difficult one, though. He had a normal human form, normal human responses and while his reactions were fast, they weren't any better than a Chronos agent's. It _did_ bother him that the man resembled one of the Numbers, particularly that he resembled Xiao Li. Of course, he appeared to be expert at disguise, so the resemblance might be intended.

After several missed blows, Heimdall swung around the clearing, striking the Taoist on the side of his head and sending him rolling into the bushes. He fell and didn't move, his body laying limp, the staff he carried fallen several yards from his outstretched hand.

Cautiously, because he couldn't be certain that a blow that ought to have shattered a human skull had done its job on a Taoist, Balder moved closer. _Take _that_ you little bastard,_ he thought, staring down. The man's head was a mess, crushed by the orihalcon sphere. Balder couldn't even recognize a face in that mass of blood and brains.

Noting that the men on his team were shouting, in a panic, he turned away from his attacker, contenting himself with a kick to the side instead of the full-fledged smashing he would have liked to give him.

The two ex-Hoshi members Heartnet and his team had captured had been dropped to the ground and left to sprawl in the dirt while the Chronos fighters were trying to catch hold of a figure dressed in long dark robes and wielding thousands of threads that reminded Balder of Janos Hazard's Ecthelion. They lashed out, wrapping around his men like living things and sending them flying all over.

Balder stepped forward, smiling grimly. Such a weapon might be useful against some folk, but his ball and chain would put it out of commission quickly enough. He was about to go in for the attack when a movement behind him made him turn. _What the..._ The body of his victim was gone, leaving only a puddle of blood and brains in the grass. He'd barely registered the fact that the Taoist's staff was gone as well when the weapon came up over his head and tugged him backwards against a small, slight but amazingly strong figure. He twisted around, trying to break free, to at least shatter the staff, but it was far too strong. _Orihalcon?_ he thought, stunned. _What the hell?_

A voice spoke in his ear, slurred as if speaking through a broken jaw or shredded lips and tongue. "Dobn worry, Number Eighd. We jush need a dalk wid our sdrays. After daat you can have dem and welcome. Nobody dies... doday. Adios, baby boy."

_**.oOo.**_

Keegan pulled himself together and straightened his clothes. He hated getting cut worse than anything else because it always took so long to recover. _Not to mention it ruins my clothing. _Still, it was better than getting tangled up in the other Chronos Number's weapon. That would have taken more energy to get out of and would have hurt quite a bit in the process.

"You thake gare ub our old fiends..." Tse Rao told him, sitting down beside the man he'd just throttled into unconsciousness. "I'b a bid broken ub ride now."

Broken up. Now that was a way to put it and Keegan shook his head. "I can think of better ways to get the drop on an opponent," he pointed out, going through his pockets and finding the package he'd been given. Walking past the Chronos agents he'd knocked out, he stopped beside Slasky and nudged him with a booted foot. This one, at least, was awake and aware of what was happening. "We have a message from Sheldon for you."

The blue eyes sneered and Slasky opened his mouth to speak, but Keegan knelt and put a gloved hand out to stop him. "Don't bother cursing me. I'm just the messenger and the delivery boy." With his free hand he set the package down and opened it, taking out a small bottle. "Sheldon says you were allowed to leave the Hoshi and go back to your old lifestyle, but your Tao talent was a gift given to one we expected to join us and serve faithfully. Since you are no longer one of us you are also no longer allowed to be a Taoist."

Slasky bit down on Keegan's hand and seemed startled when Keegan failed to react. The ice-Taoist struggled now, trying to break free of his bonds, trying to speak. It was impossible, though, for Keegan's fingers simply pried his mouth open and forced it to stay that way long enough to allow him to pour the liquid in bottle in.

Now the air turned blue with cold as Slasky screamed curses at him. It was a chill, though, that was slowly beginning to fade. The drug that Shiki had given Keegan and Tse-rao had been used by the insect-Taoist's people to deal with outlaws among their kind, removing every trace of Tao ability from all but the strongest. Slasky and Ghoul certainly weren't in that category.

Finishing his job by carefully pouring more of the drug into Praetor Ghoul's mouth, Keegan turned back to face his partner on this job. Tse-rao's face had almost healed now. Only the huge bruises that ringed his eyes were left and they were visibly fading. "You look more like a badger than a fox," he commented wryly.

"Or like I should be bartending in the dark?" came the cheery answer and Keegan did his best not to smack his companion. It never did any good, anyway. "Let's go and get our reward, then report back to Sheldon."

Keegan reflected that this job would be a lucrative one, between Sheldon's payment and the bonus that odd little man in Lebensbaum had offered to sweeten the pot. _Very lucrative indeed,_ he thought, flowing after Tse Rao as he headed into town.

To Be Continued...


	69. We're Going to Diz Knee Land

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**We're going to Diz Knee Land**_

_**April 3, 2005**_

They careened down the roadway, the early morning traffic making the task easier. Admittedly, it wouldn't have bothered them if they ran into a pedestrian or forced another car off the road, but doing so tended to slow things down. No, when robbing a bank, it was best to do so quickly and - even more quickly - haul their butts out of sight before someone in authority realized what was up. It wasn't concern for anyone's safety that drove their choice. Just concern for their own.

Thus the sudden appearance of a slender blonde girl standing in the middle of the roadway only made the driver pause a moment before hitting the gas pedal and sending their car flying towards her. If she was too stupid to move, that was hardly his problem.

What _was_ a problem, however, was the huge lance that suddenly appeared in the girl's right hand. She was leaping into the air then, driving the lance downward and into the engine of the car. Metal shrieked under the force of the mortal blow and the car went sliding sideways into a wall. A final sigh and the vehicle was dead, steam rising from its engine.

The Lunz Robber Trio leaped out of the car, confusion and fear mixed with natural aggression. All right, so the girl had managed to stop them cold. They were still armed. Their hands went immediately to their guns. If they moved fast enough there should be no way this little brat could stop them.

Before they could do anything the Trio found themselves suddenly and simultaneously empty handed, their guns dropping to the ground, shattered into pieces. They stared at the girl, trying to figure out what she'd done when another figure appeared behind her. Dark-haired, male, he looked like nothing - a powerless teenage boy. Except he was holding a huge black gun, smoke still trailing from its barrel.

"Good job, Princess," he said. "You stopped them from getting away."

"Im... impossible. We didn't even hear the shots! How could he have..." Stephen Lunz gasped, staring at the newcomer.

"Never mind that," Ernst grabbed his older brother's arm and the three men started to run. They were robbers, not fighters, and while they wouldn't hesitate to take on a seventeen year old girl, they weren't nearly so ready to handle someone with a gun. Especially not someone with the kind of skills that man had shown. He didn't know when Sweepers had started using kids and he didn't care.

As they started to run, though, they found another figure standing in their way. Another man, this one looking no more of a challenge than the first. Pale hair caught the morning light and big dark eyes stared at them with a look of childish wonder. For a moment Karl Lunz thought he saw a shadow of something pass in front of him as the man's arm flashed forward.

A moment later their pants were falling around their knees, tangling their legs and sending them flying as forward momentum went to war with the force of gravity. Gravity won, dropping them into a heap.

Even then they thought they could get away. They struggled to their feet but just as they managed it, something heavy landed on top of them. A net of steel wire and heavy lead weights Ernst was the only one in a position to see its source, standing atop one of the nearby buildings, holding what looked for all the world like a briefcase. "In weather like this, you really should watch out for falling nets," the man called.

The voice of the first man echoed down the street. "Is that one of your old man jokes?" The remark elicited a growl of irritation as the third man left the roof by means of a nearby fire-escape.

Realizing that, if they didn't do something fast, they'd be caught, Karl squirmed, trying to slip free before anyone could get their hands on him. He was under the other two, meaning that the net's edges were easier for him to reach. He shoved Ernst off of him and twisted, intending to come up running and found himself blocked by a pair of well-polished grey boots. High-heeled grey boots, he couldn't help noticing.

"Ed Gruberman, you fail to grasp Tae Kwon Leap. Approach me that you might see." The pale-haired man's foot struck, fast and hard, sending Karl rolling sideways. "Boot to the head."

Karl grasped at his face. "My dose! Yub _broke_ by dose!"

"You're lucky. Few novices experience so much of Tae Kwon Leap so soon," the alto voice continued and Karl was sure he was about to get booted again. Automatically he curled up in a ball. He'd had quite enough of fighting.

"Creed, I think he gets the point. Just keep him under control until I get the other two handcuffed." The older man's voice was more amused than anything else, though, telling Karl that he wouldn't do much to protect his captives from this madman.

"But Sven, my heels aren't that sharp... oh, sorry. I'm being literal minded again, aren't I?" The white-haired Sweeper nudged Karl onto his stomach, grabbed his wrist and pulled up behind his back. "Don't fight, Mr. Lunz. You just robbed a bank again. You're going to Disneyland."

As his captor sat on him, the only thing Karl could hope was that this would be over quickly. He was beginning to like the idea of a nice quiet cell.

_**.oOo.**_

"Hey!" Train's exclamation behind Creed caused him to peer over his shoulder at his beloved. As he widened his eyes, waiting for Train to explain, Sven paused in tying up their captives and raised a brow as Train continued, "I know what I want for my birthday."

Sven was obviously amused, as was Creed. Train _would_ make up his mind on the subject in the middle of a capture. "Oh, really? I don't think I have enough explosives for it, whatever it is."

"Don't be silly. Why would I want to blow up Disney?" Train gave Sven a look that Creed knew was intended to irritate. From his expression, Sven knew it too and refused to bite, instead just raising a brow, waiting for Train to continue. "Mom and dad had to put it off when I was a kid," Train elaborated. "So I wanna go for my birthday."

It took a moment for Creed to realize that it had been his quote that had driven Train's decision. Even as confused as he often was, however, Creed knew better than to assume his love wanted to go to the Diz Nee Land referenced in the song.

Behind them, Eve, who was keeping watch in case their captive's friends showed up, made a confused sound. "Disney? Oh, the amusement park." Creed was reminded that, having grown up the way she had, Eve had very little experience with childish amusements of that sort. "Why do you want to do that?"

"Because it's fun!" Train answered, rolling his eyes. "In fact, it'd be good for _you_ to go too. Do something _other_ than read books and practice new shapes and sizes."

Creed interrupted before Eve could take offence. "I wouldn't mind it either, actually. I didn't get to do much last time." At Sven's raised brow, he elaborated. "My nurse took me. Do I need to say more?"

With a groan, Sven muttered, "Oh great, another trauma." Then he eyed Creed puzzledly. "Though you don't seem to be upset…." Creed understood the thought process. Usually when his suppressed memories came back it was a traumatic experience.

With a shrug as he shifted his weight and forced his captive down again, Creed answered the unspoken question 'Was he going to lose it?'. "She lost her purse and took me to the offices. I saw Daffy Duck without his head and she threw a fit. It was stupid. Those things were obviously costumes..."

Beneath him, his captive shifted uncomfortably. "You dink you canb dalk aboud dis lader? By dose hurds abnd I need an iceback."

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

Sven sat back with a feeling of satisfaction and not just because of the dinner Annette and Creed had served up. "Fifty thou per head. That's what I call a mighty fine bit of Sweeping. On all our parts." He eyed Train sourly. "Almost enough to pay for the damage you and Creed did last case."

"Hey!" Creed protested. "It's Eve's fault too. She told me what to do!"

"I suppose it is," Eve agreed levelly, apparently refusing to be childish about the matter. In a way, her mature reaction bothered Sven. Not that he wanted her to act like Train, but it worried him when she was almost inhumanly composed.

Apparently Creed agreed with him, for he looked at Eve and scolded, "No, no, no, Eve. You're supposed to complain that it isn't your fault either. You could blame Train," he gestured at the figure sprawled out in his chair and snoring blissfully, "or you could put the blame back on me."

She considered that thoughtfully. "Actually, it's really Praetor Ghoul's fault. We wouldn't have had to rip up the woods like that if he hadn't shown up and wanted to fight us."

"Never mind Ghoul," Train commented, though he didn't leave his sprawled position to look at them. "What about our plans? Are we going to Disney or not?"

Sven eyed his partner. Sprawled, looking half-asleep and bored, there was still a tension to his body that wasn't usually there. He thought about it for a moment and sighed. "I suppose. I'll look into tickets tomorrow morning."

A startled look crossed Train's face. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." There wasn't a reason he could think of why it wouldn't work. Oh, it'd cost, but they could always use the same trip to stop in to visit Creed's uncle and go over the accounts. Sven trusted St. Michel, but it went entirely against his grain to leave one man in charge of a huge amount of money without anyone keeping an eye on what he did. Too, there were surely jobs available in Paris. Not to mention there'd be an opportunity to stop by the Hotel du Lac and sample their decadent chocolate cake. Creed and Annette's recipe was getting close to its equal, of course. It just never hurt to remind oneself. _Just in the spirit of scientific inquiry._

.oOoOoOo.

_April 4th, 2005_

Train stretched and yawned as he wandered down the stairs. Scratching an itch, he didn't immediately notice the silence in the kitchen where there was usually the sounds of Creed making something hot and nourishing. _Eh? Something up?_

The kitchen was empty and Train scavenged a piece of cake, then wandered around the house dripping crumbs as he looked for his companions. It took a few minutes before he found them outside in the back yard. Sven and Eve were watching Creed turn a tree to matchsticks, identical expressions of resignation on their faces. At the sight of Train, Sven moved quickly to intercept him.

"What's up? Something upset Creed?" The answer was obvious. Creed only cut firewood when he was bothered by something and in a foul mood. "What is it?"

Sven pulled him back, sat him down on a bench. "Remember I said there shouldn't be a problem with going to Disneyland?"

The question had a familiar tone to it. A tone he'd heard years earlier. His father's voice, gentle, patient and well aware that he was about to disappoint. "What?" Train couldn't help the sharpness in his tone and didn't care. "What is it? And Paris is Euro Disney, not Disneyland."

Taking a deep breath, Sven very obviously bit back an annoyed reaction. "Doesn't matter what it's called. We can't go."

"Why not?"

A quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Creed wasn't listening, then Sven explained quietly. "The week of your birthday they're having some sort of huge economic summit. The same sort of thing as the one the Hoshi crashed a few years back. Even if every hotel in the area wasn't booked we couldn't take Creed there. Chronos' leaders might have agreed with the decision to put him on probation but there is no way in hell they'd agree to have him within fifty miles of the summit. Much less five. I just finished confirming that with Sephiria."

Train yearned to say that they could leave Creed home, then, but he forced that thought back. He usually didn't care if people thought he was childish but Creed would be hurt if he suggested such a thing.

Sven continued, "Creed's offered to stay here. I told him I'd talk to you about it but that I didn't think it was very fair to leave him out." He eyed Train. "So?"

Considering the matter carefully wasn't easy. The childish part of him would have accepted Creed's sacrifice without thought. But the childish part of him had his conscience to deal with now and that conscience was remembering how much Creed had done to change for him, how much Creed had given up to be with him and how hurt Creed would be to be left behind again. The glare it was giving his child part was enough to send it howling back to its room. "No. He wouldn't be making tinker-toys right now if he liked that idea."

The sound of the tree falling interrupted them momentarily. "True. Besides, our boy's a magnet for trouble. It's not safe to leave him at home for a week. Even with Chronos keeping an eye on him." Sven eyed him doubtfully, "We can hold off on the trip, then."

Train didn't like that answer either. He took a deep breath. "Well, there are other Disney parks, you know. Or can't we afford it?" There were times when Sven's tight-fisted ways annoyed Train. He usually didn't bother arguing because he was usually the one who'd caused their bank account to be operating so close to the red. This time, though, they couldn't possibly be that low on funds. Not after taking out both Praetor Ghoul and Deke Slasky, along with bringing in the Lunz gang yesterday.

From Sven's expression it wasn't his favorite solution. He hated spending money and a vacation in America would - at least - double the cost of the trip. Before Train could whine about it, however, Sven muttered something under his breath and agreed. "Yeah, we can afford it. We'll have to put in some extra work later, to cushion our account, but we can do it."

Somehow Train managed to keep from snarking that a cushioned account for Sven was the monetary equivalent of a pile of goose-down mattresses. Instead he just turned and yelled, "Oy! Creed. Problem solved. We're going to Florida!"

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

Creed sat on the roof and sipped his tea, watching the stars glitter above him. He was feeling the happiest he'd felt in a long while. Not even his last birthday gift made him feel quite so pleased with life or certain of his place. Earlier, when he'd thought his presence would ruin his beloved Cat's birthday, he'd wanted to rip everything apart. He had been certain, then, that Train would go without him and while he recognized the justice of it, that didn't make the possibility any easier to accept.

Yet, despite that, despite every wrong thing he'd done to Train, his love had refused to leave him behind, had persuaded Sven to spend far more money than the older Sweeper liked in order to both have his birthday gift and take Creed along.

The trip would, he was certain, be difficult. Things had a way of happening to them that interfered with their plans. None the less, Creed knew that he would have to prove himself worthy of Train's trust. He would do his best to behave, to be as mature as possible no matter what.

Train _would_ have a happy birthday. He was absolutely certain of that.

To Be Continued...


	70. The Road to Orlando

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**The Road to Orlando**_

_**April 10th, 2005**_

"We didn't have this trouble the last time we went to America," Train complained as they sat in the small, windowless, room and waited for the airport's security men to finish going through their luggage. "This is your fault, Creed."

Looking up from his game system, Creed nodded. "It probably is," he admitted. "At least in part. The Rosenkaveliers wouldn't have had a chance to grow to its current level if I hadn't been distracting Chronos with the Hoshi. And if they weren't so busy causing trouble for Chronos now, airport security wouldn't be so tight."

Train glanced at his house-mate and sighed inwardly. If only Creed could be that smart about interpersonal relations. He was frighteningly good at predicting how organizations reacted in given situations but he couldn't tell when he was about to get himself smacked upside the head for an unintentionally smart remark. He said as much, adding, "If you could learn to do the same thing with people you wouldn't get into so much trouble."

A thoughtful look crossed Creed's face, "Well, large patterns are easier to predict than small ones. An organization doesn't change course nearly as quickly as a single person. So even though Sephiria might _like_ to adjust Chronos' methods to a more benevolent rule, it isn't going to become what she wants overnight. Or maybe ever. Not until the geezers are gone."

At the doorway someone coughed, a slender blonde woman was entering the room, dressed in tight leather and showing off an impressive cleavage. "You probably should be careful about calling the Elders that, Creed. It's not a good idea to be annoying them too much. They might take it into their heads to forget Sephiria's agreement with Train." She closed the door behind her as she spoke, disappointing the two men guarding the door, both of whom had been watching her rear with avid attention.

Creed made a face at Vee Vee. "Maybe, but I don't have to like them, do I?"

"That," Chronos' Number Ten answered wryly, "would be too much to hope for."

Sven looked up from the book he was reading. "I don't suppose you've come to spring us?"

Xiao Li did whatever he did to remove his disguise and sat down. "Something like that. It'll take a bit longer and you're going to have to take a different plane." Before Sven could open his mouth to protest, the Number raised a hand. "Not because of the delay. There was a problem with the one you were going to take. A damaged rudder. So everyone's been moved to a different flight. Routine. Nothing to worry about."

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

They were finally on the way. To Sven the plane didn't take off a moment too soon. None of his companions had been pleased with the delay, though - unexpectedly enough - it was Creed who took the whole thing with blessed good humor. Train was at his worst, muttering and grumbling over every little setback.

Eyeing his partner, Sven had to wonder what the problem was. Oh, Train was always more than slightly childish but this trip seemed to have brought out the whiney nine-year-old in him. Nothing was good. The temperature in the waiting area. The number of people. The fact that he'd had to pack Hades away in the gun locker the airline had provided for the purpose. Sweepers might not like being separated from their beloved weaponry, but if they wanted to travel on commercial flights some adjustments had to be made.

"Quit complaining, Train. At least they let you _bring_ Hades. I had to leave all my explosives at home," Sven pointed out to his seatmate.

"And what happens if we get hijacked?"

Though Sven felt like shaking Train he decided to take the question seriously. "Hades is a lousy weapon on a plane. Ever heard of explosive decompression?"  
To Sven's annoyance, Eve interjected, "It can't happen. They proved it on Mythbusters."

"Hades is a lot more powerful than most guns, though," Creed interjected, leaning past Train to do so. "Even if it didn't blow the side out of the plane it would still be pretty hard to breathe in here."

As the argument began, with Train and Creed both defending Hades' abilities and Eve using a napkin to calculate pressures at various altitudes, Sven slumped in his seat and hoped like anything that no one would get any strange ideas about his companions. The last thing they needed was to be arrested as soon as they reached Orlando.

_**.oOo.**_

Eve shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing over at Sven and - across the aisle - at Creed and Train. All three were deeply asleep and she wished that she could be too. Somehow, though, she just felt too excited. This wasn't her first flight, of course, but the last time she'd been too bewildered by everything happening around her to really take it all in. That time she had had too little experience to really understand what was going on. Flying over the ocean had meant nothing because she hadn't known what an ocean was, much less how complicated it was to cross.

She looked out the window, watching the moonlight shine on a layer of white clouds that resembled mountains. Stars glittered faintly, dim in the brilliant white light and she wondered what it would be like if she could fly - truly fly - alongside the plane instead of sitting within it.

Someone else knew, she noted, frowning a little. A small figure was floating in the air some dozen or so yards from the wing. A small boy, his mop of hair streaming in the wind, moonlight gleaming on his goggles, was balanced on what looked like a skateboard. He was grinning as he flew, obviously enjoying himself. Leon Ailoter, one of the Hoshi. _Unless he's one of the ones that quit._ After their last run-in with former Hoshi members Sven had made Creed give him the names of the others, along with a general description of their powers. Admittedly, he couldn't help with anyone who had joined after he'd left, but forewarned was forearmed, after all.

Leon glanced towards the plane and grinned broadly, waving at someone. The sound of someone crying out in surprise behind Eve told her that she wasn't the only one who'd seen the Hoshi member. "Daddy! LOOK that boy's FLYING! Can I have a skateboard that flies?"

The skateboard shifted closer, skidding on thin air, until Leon was barely a few yards away. He spotted Eve and waved at her too, goggles gleaming in the moonlight. A moment later he jetted forward, increasing his speed so that he was somewhere near the nose of the plane. Eve couldn't see him anymore, but the plane suddenly jerked slightly and felt like it was shifting direction.

A moment later a voice came on the speaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to circumstances beyond our control, we are rerouting to Miami. We apologize for the inconvenience."

_**April 11, 2005**_

The airport lobby was filled with outraged passengers milling around aimlessly. Their annoyance was catching, creating an atmosphere of rage that could easily turn into a complete free-for-all given the stimulus. "What the hell is going on?" someone demanded of the beleaguered stewardess. "Why did we have to reroute? Who's going to get us to Orlando?"

"Sir, please. I promise you that everything is being taken care of."

Creed forced himself to ignore the argument, to ignore the adrenaline pumping through his system. It didn't help that his companions were just as aggravated by the situation as the others, though Sven was clearly worrying that they'd have to deal with the Hoshi any minute. _Leon's been practicing,_ Creed thought to himself. The boy hadn't been able to fly nearly so high or fast before.

"Did you see anything else?"

Eve shook her head, glancing around a little nervously. Not that Creed blamed her. The last thing they needed was to start a panic with the others. "Something Leon did obviously made the pilot change course, though," Sven muttered.

Train shifted, managing to look aggravated and sulky at the same time. "Does it matter why? How are we going to get to Disneyworld? We only have two days before my birthday!"

Before Creed could suggest another flight a man dressed in a three piece suit came up to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Richard Combes. I'd like to apologize for the situation on behalf of the airline."

Someone booed. Another voice called, "Never mind apologies. We want to know what's going on and how you're going to get us to Orlando!"

"A flight is being prepared," the man said. "Unfortunately, it will have to be delayed as there's some bad weather heading for Orlando at the moment. Your original flight would have arrived before there would have been any danger, but I'm afraid this delay is making things difficult."

The sound of disgruntlement was enough to make Creed shift nervously as the voice demanded "You wanna tell us what happened?" Other voices added their agreement to the question.

"I'm afraid we aren't permitted to explain the situation," Combes answered. "I apologize. Now, everyone will be receiving a voucher for a local hotel. As soon as we have a flight available we'll be getting everybody where they need to be."

Creed glanced at Train and saw rebellion in his beloved's eyes. _Uh oh. I know that look. I hope Sven knows it too._ When the Black Cat got an idea in his head it was damned hard to get it back out and Creed had a feeling that Train wasn't going to sit still and wait for that storm to pass. Not when the one thing he wanted was to be at Disneyworld _on_ his birthday.

An idea occurred to Creed then. "Sven? How long would it take to drive to Orlando?"

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

"Have we got everything?"

Train ignored Sven's question, considering it more of his partner's usual neurotic overcompensation for perceived failures of responsibility. He had everything he was supposed to have. His bags, Hades back where it belonged and himself. As Sven checked his list for the third time, because Santa Claus had nothing on him, Train threw his bags into the trunk of the rental car.

The look on Eve's face was her usual mildly disgusted one and Train didn't care one bit. There'd been too many interruptions already and he wanted to get on the road. As soon as Sven was done counting her bags, he grabbed them from her and put them away. Now a startled expression crossed her face. "Train? What are you..."

"Don't worry about it, Eve," Creed told her, adding his bags to the pile. "He just wants to get moving, that's all." He gave the girl one of his sweeter smiles as he did so and Train almost found himself relaxing a bit. At least Creed understood where he was coming from.

"We _all_ want to get moving, Creed. That's no reason to act like a spoiled brat about it," Sven grumbled, closing the trunk and heading for the driver's seat. "Get in the car. We have a long drive ahead of us, especially since Mister Impatient insists that we have to be at Disneyworld _on_ his birthday."

Annoyed, Train was about to retort that if Sven hadn't spent so much time planning their trip they could have left days earlier. Before he could open his mouth, though, the sound of a racing engine drew everyone's attention. They turned as one to look and immediately took action.

The SUV was obviously being stolen. A big man dressed in black leathers was behind the wheel, guiding the van backwards, slamming it into some of the other cars parked in the rental lot. Near the space where the SUV had been parked were two figures, a man and a woman, both getting to their feet and the woman screaming in distress, clutching a child's teddy bear.

Train jumped on the roof of one of the nearby cars, Hades in his hand in seconds. "Creed! Help me stop him. Sven! Eve! Get the kid!" He fired, blowing out first one front tire, then the other.

It took Creed a second to understand but once he did he was running for the SUV, catching up with it quickly. His Imagine Blade cut into the base of the car, slicing one of the remaining wheels right off. At the same time Eve leaped overhead, landing on the other side. She grabbed the door, pulling it open and dove in. Train could hear her voice, cold and angry, telling someone to back off.

Then Sven was there with his briefcase, spraying knockout gas into the driver's side of the SUV as he yelled for Eve to get out. There was a sound of someone choking as Train approached, then two men stumbled out and fell to the ground. Eve was out a moment later, cradling a four year old in her arms, his eyes wide and scared as he stared at the mayhem surrounding him.

"DOUGIE!" a voice cried as the mother raced towards them. At the same time the sound of sirens wailed in the distance, rapidly growing louder and Train muttered a curse. Another interruption. At this rate they'd never reach Disneyworld on time.

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

Another questioning. Another hour or so spent waiting for those in charge to make up their minds what to do. Another hour sitting in an uncomfortable chair at an uncomfortable table and listening to Train grouse. Sven was beginning to wish he'd never agreed to this trip in the first place.

"It's all right, Train. We'll get there." That was Creed, being little Mr. Pollyanna. Sven didn't know how the least stable of their little group was managing to keep his cool under the circumstances. Admittedly, Disney wasn't vitally important to him but Sven would have expected Creed to hate all the troubles they'd run into at least as much as Train, if only because he liked things to follow the plan. "Maybe not exactly on your birthday but we _will_ get there."

Train pouted. "I don't want to be late."

Before Sven or Eve could snap at him the door opened and two men entered. One was medium height, ginger-haired and sharp featured. The other was taller, slightly stooped, with a serious air to him. The first Sven recognized as the head of the Criminal Investigations department, a man named Abel Nelson. The other - it took Sven a moment to remember that he was the man in the parking lot, the one whose rental van had been stolen. Beside Sven, Creed shifted and sat up, making a startled sound.

"Gentlemen. Young lady. Mr. Spencer would like to have a few words with you." Nelson moved to stand to the side while the other man came forward.

"I know you," Creed said. "You're Doggie... I mean Dougie's father."

Spencer grinned. "I thought I recognized you on the plane, Mr. Dickens." He sat down, turning an infectious smile on Sven. "I understand you're their senior partner. I just wanted to thank you, all of you, for saving our son."

Returning the smile, Sven answered, "You're welcome." He glanced at Nelson. "I don't suppose this means we can go?"

"I was hoping to reward you," Spencer explained. "Lieutenant Nelson tells me that while you're likely to be fined for the damage to the car park, your status as Sweepers means that you won't have to worry about being arrested for carrying weapons or for vandalism."

Nelson coughed. "That doesn't mean I'd encourage you to run out and start doing business here in Miami. Especially if it's always this - ah - impressively destructive." There was a slightly puzzled tone to his voice, as if he would have liked nothing better than to ask exactly how certain results had been achieved. Such as the slicing up of the SUV. Sweepers didn't tend to share their methods, thankfully, and it was obvious he didn't expect an answer.

"We have no plans on staying," Sven told the man. "If anything, the sooner we can be on our way and headed to Orlando, the happier we'll be. We were on the plane that was rerouted to Miami."

The information surprised neither man. "Yes," Spencer said. "So were we. I'm afraid it may have been our fault that we changed course. My family received some death threats from the Rosenkaveliers recently and apparently they were going to follow through by attacking the plane. Fortunately someone was able to warn the captain that there was a fighter headed to intercept us."

Sven glanced at Eve. So that was what Leon had been up to. Yet more of Sheldon's game of Thwart The Badguys. Well enough, since the warning had saved them. Even Train's vaunted good luck couldn't have saved them from that sort of attack. "Nice of whomever it was," he couldn't help commenting. "So does that mean we can go? We really need to be on the road soon."

The smile on Spencer's face broadened. "Not only can you go, but I've paid for your rental. The car is waiting outside with your luggage."

Train sat up suddenly. "Now _that_ is what I'm talking about. C'mon, Sven. Let's go!"

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

To Eve the drive north from Miami to Orlando would later take on a surreal quality. Admittedly, life with Train, Sven and Creed always felt a little out of touch with reality but this time whatever it was that created that effect around them was working overtime.

Such as;

_"Cows? Why are there cows on the road?"_

_"I think because they live here." Creed pointing at the broken fence._

_"They're in our way."_

_"They wouldn't be if you hadn't insisted we take a shortcut to avoid the traffic jam."_

_The car door opening and Train getting out. "What are you going to do... Train, you can't..." Followed by the sound of Hades firing into the air. The frightened bellows of several dozen cows racing across the road and back into their field. "Train!"_

_"There. Drive, Sven."_

Or;

_"You're lost."_

_"No, I'm not."_

_"Yes, you are. I've seen that tree five times in the last hour."_

_"I just can't find the turn-off. I know where we are... Hey! Eve! Don't..."_

_Flying above the roadway, examining the map and trying to work out exactly how the lines and squiggles equated to the roads they were supposed to represent. Focused so closely on interpreting the thing that she didn't immediately notice the police car stopping behind their own. The sound of Sven desperately trying to explain that they weren't criminals or terrorists, just utterly and completely lost. Or at least unable to find the turn-off._

_It may have been a touch of mean-spiritedness on Eve's part that made her land behind the sheriff and say, "I found it, Sven."_

_The man was still staring in shock as they drove away._

Or;

_"What is that thing doing?"_

_"Sunning itself, I think."_

_"Well, it can just get out of the way."_

_"I doubt firing into the air is going to do any good."_

_Train once again leaping out of the car. This time closely followed by Creed. "In that case I'll just shoot it."_

_"Oh for pity's sake, Train. I'll get rid of it." Creed going to Level Three and using his third arm to lift the startled alligator off the road and toss it out into the swamp. "There. Satisfied?"_

_Sven leaning on the driver's wheel and groaning from sheer aggravation._

Or;

_"We have _got_ to find a place to stop for a while. I've been driving for hours without a break."_

_"We can't! We'll be late!" Train's voice taking on that childish whine that was beginning to make Creed sound like the epitome of maturity. "Sven, you promised!"_

_"I promised I'd try. But I can't keep driving and I'm not trusting you behind the wheel in your current mood." Sven glancing over his shoulder at the two behind them. "And Creed can't drive. There is no way I'm ever letting him drive again."_

_Creed looking thoughtful. "What about Eve. She's a big girl now."_

_"You're joking, right? Eve's a child."_

_Fighting the urge to smack her senior partner upside the head. "I'm tall enough, strong enough and there's no one for miles. Where better for me to learn to drive than in the middle of nowhere like this?"_

_Sven, sounding no more mature than Train. "Oh God. Why me?"_

_**April 12, 2005**_

The hotel Sven chose was near enough to Disneyworld that they could see the fireworks rising above the park, gleaming against the clouds. Even better their room overlooked the park, meaning that Train could stand at the window and stare out longingly. Creed, watching this, had to smile. It was rare to see his Train so happy and that pleased him as much or more than the fact that the next morning they'd be on their way into the park. He leaned against the door-frame to their room and enjoyed the view.

"Creed. Come here a minute, would you?" Sven was beckoning him into the sitting room. Since Train seemed content to just stand at the window and watch the fireworks, Creed turned and joined the other man. "Are you feeling all right?"

The question puzzled Creed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

It was Eve who answered. "You've been acting oddly. Both of you have. We were wondering why." She glanced at Sven questioningly and he agreed with her silently. "Train's always a bit childish but he's been worse than ever on this trip. And you've been acting so calm that it seems like you've been switched with an alien."

That amused Creed. "Oh, no. I'd be the alien switched with someone who knows how to act, then." At both of his companions' expressions he turned serious. He _did_ understand the question and it was a bit hard to explain clearly, especially after a fairly long and exhausting day. "At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with one's lost self."

Taking a deep breath, Sven gave Creed a long, level, look. "I'd smack you, if I didn't know you're trying to help. But I have no idea what you mean by that."

It was difficult, painfully so, to keep the urge to run at the mouth from taking over. Creed shifted nervously. "I'll try." He closed his eyes, trying to work out exactly what he was feeling and thinking when he himself hardly knew. "His parents promised to take him and never did."

Sven's expression said that he had no idea why that mattered and Creed sighed inwardly. "They promised him he could go and the promise never got kept. That's important when you're little."

"It never got kept because they _died_!" Eve protested. "Surely that's extenuating circumstances, even to Train."

"That doesn't make it hurt less. If anything, it hurts more. Makes him feel angry with them, because it was something special that never happened." Creed wasn't absolutely certain he was right about this. He wasn't a psychiatrist or psychologist or anything clever like that. He just sensed the need in his beloved, the yearning to complete something lost and almost forgotten. He smiled at his companions. "But it's all right now. We'll go tomorrow and everything will be good." He'd make sure of it. Somehow.

To Be Contineud...


	71. Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate's Life For Me

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate's Life For Me**_

_**April 13th, 2005**_

"It's not fair."

Train's voice was low and flat, almost emotionless. It was a tone Sven had never heard from his partner before. Not the cold, level, voice of the killer. Not the whiney little boy thwarted from his desire. No. Sven was at a loss. "They said a storm was headed for Orlando. We drove through some of it on the way up. We ought to have realized it would still be raining today."

"The park's still open."

"To insane people. I'd rather not get completely soaked just because you can't bear to wait a few hours, or a day." Sven looked out the window at the grey skies and water streaked glass. "Look. The hotel has entertainment too. We can stay here until the rain lets up, go to the park later and..."

"I don't want to wait."

"Train, you're being..."

"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I DON'T WANT TO WAIT ANYMORE! _I've waited forever and I want to go to Disneyworld! I don't care if it's raining! It could be a damn tsunami or an earthquake out there and I'd want to go!_"

Before Sven could open his mouth to speak Train began throwing things. The chair went first, nearly slamming into the window if Creed hadn't moved to catch it in time. Then the table was turned on its side and kicked so hard it shattered.

"DAMNIT TRAIN! STOP ACTING LIKE A LITTLE KID AND GROW UP!"

"I don't want to grow up. I want my childhood! _I never got my childhood!_ I WANT TO GO TO DISNEYWORLD!"

Train's cry of fury held a note of despair, the sound making Sven's anger drain away. He hadn't been sure, last night, but it looked like Creed had figured it out after all. Train didn't want to go the Disney just to have fun. He wanted to go to Disney because he'd been cheated of it before, because his parents had been murdered and had left him to be raised by an assassin. It wasn't just a park to him, it was the holy grail of his lost youth. "Train," he said more quietly, watching his partner beat himself against the wall. "Train, please..."

It started almost imperceptibly. A faint familiar wisp of smoke around Train's body that dissipated as he flung himself around. Then the wisp billowed, growing into a plume that enveloped Train and hid him momentarily from view.

When it was gone the figure that remained, swamped in his pajama pants and still howling angrily at fate, was that of a ten year old boy.

_**.oOo.**_

Eve glared down at Train, who hadn't noticed the change. It only proved her basic belief that Train Heartnet was a little boy who refused to grow up. "You did it again, Train."

The sudden realization that he had, indeed, become a small child, broke Train out of his temper tantrum. "Oh this is just GREAT!" he complained, throwing himself onto the nearest bed and beating his feet on the mattress while Sven - without explanation - left the room suddenly.

"You're a childish mess, Train. You knew Sven was right and you still acted your mental age until your nano-machines decided your body should match." Annoyed, Eve picked up a chair and sat down on it. "I don't want to go to Disney if you're going to be like this."

Train ignored her, still kicking his feet and working himself up towards another tantrum. Before he could, though, Creed came in from the bathroom and dropped a wet towel on him. "Wipe your face, Train. It'll be all right." He paused, stared at the much smaller Black Cat and sat down suddenly. "Oh, wow. I didn't really believe them when they said you'd turned into a kid." He stared, expression a mix of shock and fascination.

"He's always been a little kid," Eve grumbled as Train glared at Creed. She noted, though, that Train was taking Creed's advice, using the towel to rub his face and neck. "This is stupid, Train. Having a tantrum like that isn't going to get the rain to stop. If you can't go, you can't go. Why waste time shrieking about it?"

Rather surprisingly, it was Sven who disagreed with her. "I just called the lobby. People go to the park even when it rains. Apparently there are enough indoor rides that it doesn't matter." He frowned at Train. "That doesn't excuse your tantrum, though. Think you can behave nicely if we go?"

Now Eve felt like having a tantrum. "I said I don't want to go." She wasn't sure why she was feeling so aggravated. Train was being himself. Well, maybe more himself than usual. Maybe it was just the feeling that that kind of behavior shouldn't be rewarded, or the feeling that Train was being catered to. She folded her arms and glared at the others.

"Fine. I'll go by myself."

Sven's expression was amused. "Like that? I don't think they'd let you." He very obviously thought about it. "Of course, like that you can get in for cheap. Cheaper." Turning his attention on Eve, he cajoled, "We can let him go on the rides while we do other things."

Since the whole point of Disneyworld, as far as Eve understood it, was the rides, that made no sense. She kept her arms crossed and continued to glare at Train, who was glaring back with the most stubborn expression she'd ever seen on his face. _Two can play that game._

It was Creed who broke the stalemate. "Why don't you and Eve find something else to do? I can take Train to Disneyworld by myself."

Sven paused. Considered that. Eyed Eve. "All right." The ease with which Sven agreed startled her. Creed was hardly more adult than Train, after all. At her startled look, he continued, "He's more trustworthy than he used to be and Train can keep him out of trouble."

She couldn't help it. "Shyeah, right."

"Yes, right," Sven confirmed, even as Train jumped off the bed, whooped and ran to get ready, closely followed by Creed. Quietly, Sven added to Eve, "And in the meantime, I'll take you somewhere else. To something you'd enjoy more. There's no reason why we can't all have fun while we're here."

Startled, Eve stared at Sven and felt suddenly warmed by his smile.

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

"Where to first?"

Train knew exactly where to go. Space Mountain. He was still tall enough, a fact he hadn't thought about immediately but which Eve, with a certain amount of malice, couldn't help but remind him of before they'd left. He would have been annoyed with her but the part of him that had watched his tantrum earlier with a sense of guilt had to acknowledge the fairness. He'd acted like a brat and she'd returned the favor. _And, fortunately, I'm just tall enough for most of the rides._

Realizing that he hadn't answered Creed's question, Train paused long enough to point at their map. "There, then there, then there and there. Oh, and we have to eat at the Crystal Palace. That's where the characters hang out." He adjusted his pants, tightening the belt around his waist. It was, he thought, a good thing he had a pair of shorts in his luggage. They were a bit tight on him in adult form but looked fine, if big, on him now. The shirt helped hide the fact that they'd had to be belted on to stay put. "Ready to go?"

"All right, Train." Creed's voice was quiet, almost submissive and it suddenly occurred to Train that maybe he was being too pushy. When he asked, though, Creed suddenly smiled brightly, "No. This is your birthday and I want you to have fun. Besides, I want to do those things too."

"Then what is it?"

"Well, I was hoping to do Pirates of the Caribbean."

That came as no surprise. Sven, against his better judgment, had let Creed watch the movie. Train thought about it. "I'd heard it was sort of boring. Like A Small World but with pirates. But if you wanna, that's okay. We got all day, after all."

A bright grin covered Creed's face. "Okay. Let's go."

They splashed across the pavement, Creed holding an umbrella over their heads. "Oh, and let's try the Buzz Lightyear ride, too. I think I'm just big enough for that and I feel like shooting things up."

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

The next few hours passed happily, running through the rain to the next ride. Creed's legs were soaked and if it hadn't been a fairly warm day he would have worried that they'd end up catching another cold. Despite the damp, however, the combination of exciting rides and spending time alone with Train was more than enough to make up for any inconveniences.

Sitting in the Crystal Palace, eating a burger and watching Donald Duck make the rounds, Creed couldn't help but remember that day, long ago, when his nurse had dragged him, kicking, screaming and finally sulking, out of the park. He made a sour face at the memory and shoved it aside.

"Oy, Cray." Train was sounding thoughtful as he slurped down a vanilla shake. When Creed looked at him Train turned an intense amber gaze up at him. "I've been a bastard, haven't I?"

One of the mothers sitting nearby them jerked upright and turned to stare. It took Creed a moment to realize why but he quickly spoke up as soon as he did. "Young man, I don't know where you learned that word but if you use it again I'll wash your mouth out with soap." He returned Train's gaze, hoping his love wouldn't be mad at him for scolding.

Train frowned, opened his mouth to speak, then glanced sideways at the woman who was talking to her children with shocked air. "I'm sorry, Uncle Cray. I kinda forgot." More quietly he added, "I meant I've been a brat."

That was true enough but Creed didn't want to admit it. His traitor mouth, though, allowed the agreement out before he could stop it. "But I understand. It's okay, honestly."

"Not fine?"

"Not fine," Creed answered, smiling. Train's question would have made no sense to anyone else, but Creed understood. Fine, for him, meant the exact opposite and Train knew it.

"But definitely okay. Do you feel better now?" He already knew the answer to that. He had practically felt the tension leaving his friend's body over the last few hours. He'd be lying to say he truly understood what Train was going through but he knew he'd been right about one thing the night before. That Train had needed this trip badly.

"Yep. Feeling pretty good." Train looked outside. "Y'know, one nice thing about this weather. We got to ride a lot more than we would have otherwise, didn't we?" At Creed's grin of agreement he stood up and brushed off his hands. "Let's go to Pirates now. I feel like a boat ride."

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

The rain might have made the lines shorter than they usually were but the Pirates of the Caribbeanride was both indoors and had more than enough room under its roof to permit a huge crowd. Moreover, the movie had increased interest in the ride, making it one of the more popular places in the Magic Kingdom.

Still, although he was bored with standing in line, Train was determined to wait it out. Not because he really cared. He'd enjoyed the movie well enough but he rather doubted the ride would match it for fun. No, this was for Creed, who had been doing everything he could to make sure Train enjoyed himself - to the point of ignoring his own interests.

Climbing onto the boat, Train had to be reminded to belt himself in. The price he was having to pay for looking like a ten year old. Still, in a way he was enjoying this trip all the more because of his apparent age. The rides were built and intended for children after all. He sat back, watching his companion crane his neck around as the boat floated slowly down the corridor, past small dioramas on either side. As he'd expected, the ride was as tame as they came, being more spectacle than anything else.

The big spectacle though was fun to look at. A huge shadowy room filled with mist and the sound of cannons. Ordinarily Creed would be hiding under his bed from the noise but right now he was watching the animatronics with rapt fascination. "Oh, look! That was in the movie! Remember?"

Train remembered and chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. Truth to tell, though, it was sort of cool to see the scenes that the movie had recreated. He had to wonder how much Creed understood of it, though.

They were halfway through the room when Creed pointed off towards the big ship to their left. "Look! They have an actor up there."

That made no sense. Train had thought that this ride was supposed to be all machines. He said as much as he peered up into the rigging of the ship. The figure _did_ look almost human, though. An Asian man dressed in a long, embroidered, coat, his shaggy black hair pulled back into a loose top-knot. "They wouldn't put someone up there, Creed. They might break something."

"I saw him jump up, though," Creed countered. "He was standing on the boat that just left this room. Look, he's coming down again!" He was right. The figure dove down, into the water, then somehow leapt out and onto the front of the boat behind them.

Train turned to watch, frowning. "I don't think that's part of the act," he muttered. Oh, it looked good and maybe it _was_ just part of a promotion, but somehow there just seemed like something wrong with this picture.

"Now, lassie. Just be donatin' yer money in this bag and I'll be takin' me leave of ye." The 'pirate's' voice was soft and too cheerful to be threatening. The older woman he was robbing giggled a little, though Train wasn't sure why, and pulled out several bills, dropping them into the man's bag. Then he was gone, leaping back up into the rigging of the ship again.

Their boat slid further forward, headed for the room's exit and Train had half decided that whatever was going on wasn't something for him to worry about when Creed suddenly stood up. "If that isn't part of the act he shouldn't be doing it," he said firmly. "I'll take care of it. You tell the attendants when you get out." Before Train could stop him he'd leapt for the boat as well, catching hold of the anchor line and pulling himself - hand over hand - up the line.

Then the boat had turned the corner and Train was alone.

_**.oOo.**_

Creed flipped himself onto the boat and narrowly avoided being knocked into the water by the mannequin that was waving its sword around. He dodged it and several others, searching the scene for his quarry. "Hey! You! You don't belong up here!"

The stranger paused as he was about to make a leap for another of the boats below them. "Oh? You think not? How can you be sure?"

That gave Creed pause. He'd assumed that the stranger was up to no good and taken action without bothering to think about it. It was, he realized, the sort of impetuous leap into trouble that Train was usually guilty of and he wondered what Sven was going to say when he found out. "I... Well _are_ you legit?" It was a silly question to ask and he knew it, but he also had no other response.

The man started to laugh, leaning back on the mast and clutching it tightly. "Dear me! Oh dear me! You're even funnier than I thought you'd be."

_Then he thought I'd be? He knows me?_ Creed frowned at the man. "You haven't answered my question. Are you a thief or part of the attraction?"

Laughter followed as the man leapt to another mast. "That's a secret, Master Creed. Take a wild guess!"

If Creed had to take a guess then, wild or not, it would be that his instinct had been right. "Come down. Right now. You're going to give back everything you've stolen." It was what Train would do, that much he was certain of. He followed the man, swinging from the ropes and landing on the same - he wasn't certain what to call it - part of the mast. Out of fairness he drew Kotetsu but brought him to Level 2 so the stranger could see what he was facing.

Instead of being surprised or even scared, though, the stranger simply grinned and drew a long staff out from nowhere, running at Creed without hesitation. Adrenaline pumping, Creed raised his weapon and blocked the attack. There was a ring of metal on metal and the two dodged back and forth, striking above and below, swinging from rope to rope as they spun around.

A near miss from the staff forced Creed to leap for the next mast and, failing to land square, left him hanging from the sail by his left arm. "Whoops! That would leave a mark," he couldn't help but exclaim as he glanced down at the deck far below them.

"More than one, I'd think," the stranger agreed, eyeing the distance between them and clearly trying to decide if he could make the leap. Seeing that he was going to try, Creed prepared himself. This man was fast, faster than most, and a damn good fighter. He grinned, though, unable to help but enjoy the challenge.

As the stranger leapt the distance, Creed swung himself up and landed on the same crossbar. "You're good," he said. "Fun, too. But you have to stop. I don't want to hurt you." The odd thing was, he didn't. He stalked towards the other man, moving slowly, carefully.Laughter echoed above the recorded gunfire. "What? And disappoint our audience?" The stranger gestured downwards towards the boats floating past them and Creed was suddenly aware of the people crying out, cheering them on. They thought this was a part of the show and wanted more. "Come now, Creed. Let's have a bit of fun until your keeper catches up with you."

He hesitated. It _was_ fun, he admitted that much, but he had a feeling he was going to get into trouble for this. "No. I don't think so." He ran towards the stranger and, at the last moment, leapt over him, landing lightly on the other side. He ran further and used the end of the mast as a springboard to the platform across from the ship.

Unfortunately, the other man wasn't taking no for an answer. He followed Creed and flipped over him just in time to keep him from escaping into the back of the set. He landed, bowing in a grandiloquent gesture. "My name is Hu Tse Rao, Lord of the Hu Ling clan!" he said in oddly accented Chinese. "I beg of you, Master Creed Diskence - May I have this dance?"

Realizing that there was no way he was going to get away that easily, Creed took up a fighting position again and once more their weapons clashed. They came together and violet eyes met Creed's with vast humor. Then they flung the other away, rolling amid the animatronics and the crates.

The staff swept over Creed's head, then under his feet as he leapt over the weapon. Then Tse Rao was dodging a series of thrusts as Creed closed with him. Had this been a more private fight Creed might have used Kotetsu more effectively, allowing him to stretch and strike from whatever direction he chose. Some vestige of sense, however, kept him under control. No need to announce to the world what he and his Imagine Blade could do.

Now Tse Rao regained the advantage, getting back far enough that Creed's strikes couldn't reach him and thrusting the long, pale metal staff into Creed's face. Creed arched backwards, flipping out of the way and - holding himself upside down with one hand - forced the man backwards with a single well aimed slash at his legs. Then he launched himself up and flipped himself onto his feet to the sound of cheers from those watching the show.

Spinning, Creed dodged beneath Tse Rao's weapon and brought his elbow up into the man's stomach. The gasp of air escaping his opponent's lungs was just audible over the cannon fire, a satisfying sound. Then the staff came swinging around, pulling Creed backwards against Tse Rao's body, throttling him.

He kicked downwards, flinging his body up and around, sliding himself free as Tse Rao fell beneath his weight. Then he leapt upwards and landed on a high pile of crates. His enemy grinned up at him. "Two can play that game, Master Creed." Then he was running for another pile of wood and leaping to the top.

This proved a mistake on Tse Rao's part, though, for this pile wasn't quite as stable as the one Creed had chosen, being part of the set that was supposed to appear to fall apart as it was hit by a cannon ball. He was twice unlucky, too, for the moment he chose for his leap was the moment the box was supposed to 'shatter'. He landed, fell sideways and onto a broken spar of wood that rose from the floor of the platform.

Creed was down in a moment, Kotetsu vanishing in his panic. "Oh no! No, you can't be dead." He hadn't killed the man himself but he couldn't help but feel responsible. He'd let the fight continue, or at least hadn't tried hard enough to stop it. Maybe he'd enjoyed it too much. "No. Please... Don't be dead."

The man's eyes stared mutely upwards at the roof. Then, rather suddenly, blinked. "Well. That was stupid of me." He reached out a hand. "Help me up, would you?"

Stunned, all Creed could do was take the man's hand and pull. By all rights Tse Rao should be dead. The spar had gone straight through his chest and was covered with his blood. "What... how..."

"A man who wields a blade born of Tao should know the answer to that," Tse Rao answered, brushing himself off and checking his rapidly healing chest. "I'm sorry, Master Creed. I had no intention of frightening you. Just of seeing how you were doing." Bright humor flickered in his eyes as he met Creed's gaze. "And I'll be happy to report that you're doing quite well, thank you very much."

"Sheldon..."

"If you'd like to think that," Tse Rao answered, noncommittally. Then he grinned broadly. "I thank you for the game, Master Creed. I haven't had such a good fight in over a century." He glanced over Creed's shoulder and added, "I'd best be going, though. Your Lord and Protector is on his way and I don't think he's very happy with me." With a suddenness that left Creed gasping the Taoist grabbed him around the waist, pulled him close and kissed him, long and lovingly. Then, with equal abruptness, he was gone.

A moment or so later Train was there, returned to his true age and appearance and soaking wet from his swim from the boat, his formerly loose shorts and shirt tight on his body. He grabbed Creed by the shoulders, shaking him. "Are you all right? What did that bastard do to you? Are you hurt? There's blood on you!"

Creed blinked at Train for a moment. "I'm not hurt," he said slowly. Then his legs gave way beneath him and he felt dizzy. A strange, bitter, taste in his mouth told him why. "He gave me knockout drops when he kissed me. Now that's what I call rude."

_**.oOoOoOo.**_

"I can't send the two of you on your own anywhere." Sven folded his arms and shook his head at his partner as Train sat and watched Creed snore on the stretcher. "I should have known that your magnetism for trouble would result in something destructive."

"Nothing got destroyed," Train muttered, eyes intent on their sleeping companion. "No one got hurt. Except that bastard and he obviously needs more than a stake through the heart to kill him." His expression darkened. "Next time I see him I'll make sure to have some garlic and a big bowie knife on hand, too."

Creed opened his eyes. "I don't think he's a vampire, Train. He's probably a Taoist." He made a face and added, plaintively, "Can I have something to drink? He tasted awful. Or better yet, I want chocolate."

That could be arranged and Sven searched his pockets for the candy bar he kept on hand for emergencies. "You can get me another later," he told the younger man. "Now then, Train, you go get yourself dressed while I talk to Creed."

"But..."

"Don't argue. You're soaking wet and I don't need you catching another cold." Besides, he wanted to talk to Creed about what had happened and Train's over-protective posture would make that difficult. As Train went sulkily off, Sven sat down beside Creed. "How you feeling?"

Creed considered that thoughtfully. "Woozy. I don't think I want to ride anything more exciting than the tram right now." He frowned. "What are you doing here, anyway? Where's Eve?"

"Waiting outside. We weren't all that far. Just over at the Epcot Center." Eyeing the pale-haired man, Sven was pleased to see that the stress of recent events hadn't seemed to phase him. If anything he was just mildly irritated by what had happened. "How's the chocolate."

"Tastes a bit like gunpowder. You should put it in a better wrapper if you're going to carry it in your pocket." Creed shrugged, sitting up and swaying slightly. "Don't be mad at Train, Sven. It wasn't his fault. I'm the one who went for the man. If I'd stayed in my seat like a good boy I wouldn't be here right now."

Well, that was true enough. On the other hand, it was good to know that even when he was being impetuous and failing to think things through, Creed was still keeping the main point very firmly in his mind. No one was to get hurt. "Lesson learned," he told his companion. "And another lesson learned to recognize that it's impossible to keep someone from getting their own fool selves hurt." From what Train had told him of the fight - at least what little he'd seen of it - the Taoist had made a dumb mistake and would have paid for it with his life if he'd not had that weird regenerative ability.

Creed frowned slightly, obviously thinking about it. "I still should have been more careful."

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't think you did too badly. You managed to keep him from getting away with the money without doing much damage, so the park authorities are happy." That made Sven happy too. The less damage they had to pay for, the better. "So you and Train play for the rest of the day and we'll see you tonight. All right?"

"All right, Sven." Creed grinned. "We still haven't done the Haunted Mansion or Frontierland. And I think Train wants to eat supper at Liberty Square."

Sven left Creed to contemplate the rest of the day's pleasures. It'd be late in the night before the kids got home, he knew, but he was fairly sure he could trust them. And hopefully Train's trouble magnet effect had run its course and the rest of the trip would be less eventful. _Not uneventful, though. That would be too much to hope for._

To Be Continued...


	72. Intermezzo 18: Hoshi & Chronos

**The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence **

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series  
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (username: KosagiNoLegion), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I think I've found a satisfactory voice change oOo with long line between major scenes. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

* * *

_**Interlude: Chronos & Hoshi**_

_**April 13, 2005**_

"I have a bone to pick with you."

"Really? Pork? Beef? Human?"

Xiao Li glared at the man standing atop the battlements of the great castle. Dressed more simply now in loose black pants and white shirt, the man's thick black hair hung loose around his face. He still had a piratical air, though. The look of a man ready to do anything and anyone. "Yours, if you do that again."

A slight pause followed as Tse Rao contemplated the fireworks rising above them. "But it was fun, Xiao Li. You're just jealous because I got to kiss him."

"Your point?"

Tse Rao turned to look at him. "Oh, really? You know you have no chance with that boy, don't you?"

Growling, Xiao Li clenched his fists. "Yes, I know."

"It's too bad, too. He'd be fun, if he were more open to alternatives."

There were times when Xiao Li's humor went entirely out the window. This was one of them. "What the hell are you up to? Why are you working for the Hoshi, anyway?"

Violet eyes turned to meet his, their expression amused. "I could ask you the same question. Why are _you_ working for Chronos?"

There were few people who could annoy Xiao Li the way Tse Rao could. "I have my reasons," he stated flatly.

"Then my answer is the same. I have _my_ reasons." Tse Rao turned his attention back to the fireworks. "Oh, that's a good one. They've improved a lot this century." He smiled happily and added, "Xiao Li, I don't tell my children what to do. I don't expect them to tell me what to do."

"I don't want to have to fight you."

Amusement curved lips very like Xiao Li's, in an expression that he knew annoyed everyone else. "I don't plan on fighting you. Hopefully it won't come to that. Your pretty little boss might manage to figure out who is doing what to whom before we have a war no one can win. Sheldon's doing his best, but there's only so much he can do with a situation like this." Tse Rao straightened up as the last ember of the fireworks display disappeared. "You tell her, boy, she's got a traitor in her midst. Someone's been leaking her plans to the Rosenkaveliers. I'd tell you who, but it's a secret - even from me. Now run along, son. It's late and you should be getting more sleep."

With a snap of the fingers, Tse Rao disappeared, leaving Xiao Li to find his own way down.

To Be Continued...


End file.
